THE  RANCH  AT 
THE  WOLVERINE 


B.M.  BOWER, 


THE  RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 


It  was  a  long  pistol  shot  and  he  was  afraid  that  he  might  miss. 
FRONTISPIECE.     See  Page  205. 


THE  RANCH  AT 
THE  WOLVERINE 


By  B.  M  BOWER 


Author  of  "The  Lonesome  Land,"  Etc. 


With  Frontispiece  by 
DOUGLAS  DUER 


A.  L,  BURT  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS 

114-120  East  Twenty-third  Street      •      -      New  York 

Published  by  Arrangement  with  Little,  Brown  and  Company 


Copyright,  191}, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPAHY. 


A II  rights  reserved 


URL 
SRLF 


4 1737 


i. 

ii. 

in. 

IV. 

v. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 

XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

LET  Us  START  AT  THE  BEGINNING      ...  1 

A  STORM  AND  A  STRANGER 21 

A  BOOK,  A  BANNOCK,  AND  A  BED      ...  32 
"  OLD  DAME  FORTUNE'S  USED  ME  FOR  A  FOOT- 
BALL"   46 

MARTHY  BURIES  HER  DEAD  AND  GREETS  HER 

NEPHEW 59 

A  MATTER  OP  TWELVE  MONTHS  OR  So    .       .  7S 

WARD  HUNTS  WOLVES 97 

HELP  FOR  THE  Cow  BUSINESS     .       .       .       .111 
WHEN  EMOTIONS  ARE  BOTTLED  .       .       .       .120 

THIS  PAL  BUSINESS 133 

WAS  IT  THE  DOG?  .  150 


THE  LITTLE  DEVILS  OF  'DOUBT   .... 
THE  CORRAL  IN  THE  CANYON      .... 

EACH  IN  His  OWN  TRAIL 

"  You  WON'T  GET  ME  AGAIN  "  . 

"  I'M  GOING  TO  TAKE  You  OUT  AND    HANG 

You" 

"So -LONG,  BUCK!" 

FORTUNE  KICKS  AGAIN 

THE  BRAVE  BUCKAROO 

"  WE  BEEN  SORRY  FOR  You  "     .       . 
v 


164 
180 
194 
20i 


VI 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

XXI.  SEVEN  LEAN  KINE 

XXII.  THE  BILLY  OF  HER     . 

XXIII.  BILLY  LOUISE  GETS  A  SURPRISE 

XXIV.  THE  HOOKIN'  -  COUGH  MAN      . 
XXV.  THE  WOLF  JOKB  .... 

XXVI.  "HM-MM!"         .       .       .       . 

XXVII.  MARTHY  ...... 

XXVUI.  ALL  RIGHT  AND  COMFY 


PAGE 

266 
275 
286 
293 
306 
316 
327 
342 


The  Ranch  at  the  Wolverine 

CHAPTER  I 

LET  US  START  AT  THE  BEGINNING 

FOUR  trail-worn  oxen,  their  necks  bowed  to  the 
yoke  of  patient  servitude,  should  really  begin 
this  story.  But  to  follow  the  trail  they  made  would 
take  several  chapters  which  you  certainly  would  skip 
—  unless  you  like  to  hear  the  tale  of  how  the  wilderness 
was  tamed  and  can  thrill  at  the  stern  history  of  those 
who  did  the  taming  while  they  fought  to  keep  their 
stomachs  fairly  well  filled  with  food  a,nd  their  hard- 
muscled  bodies  fit  for  the  fray. 

There  was  a  woman,  low-browed,  uncombed,  harsh  of 
voice  and  speech  and  nature,  who  drove  the  four  oxen 
forward  over  lava  rock  and  rough  prairie  and  the 
scanty  sage.  I  might  tell  you  a  great  deal  about  Marthy, 
who  plodded  stolidly  across  the  desert  and  the  low-lying 
hills  along  the  Blackfoot;  and  of  her  weak-souled,  shift- 
less husband  whom  she  called  Jase,  when  she  did  not 
call  him  worse. 

They  were  the  pioneers  whose  lurching  wagon  first 
forded  the  singing  Wolverine  stream  just  where  it 
greens  the  tiny  valley  and  then  slips  between  huge  lava- 
rock  ledges  to  join  the  larger  stream.  Jase  would  have 
stopped  there  and  called  home  the  sheltered  little  green 


2       RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

spot  in  the  gray  barrenness.  But  Marthy  went  on,  up 
the  farther  hill  and  across  the  upland,  another  full 
day's  journey  with  the  sweating  oxen. 

They  camped  that  night  on  another  little,  singing 
stream,  in  another  little  valley,  which  was  not  so  level 
or  so  green  or  so  wholly  pleasing  to  the  eye.  And  that 
night  two  of  the  oxen,  impelled  by  a  surer  instinct 
than  their  human  owners,  strayed  away  down  a  narrow, 
winding  gorge  and  so  discovered  the  Cove  and  feasted 
upon  its  rich  grasses.  It  was  Marthy  who  went  after 
them  and  who  recognized  the  little,  hidden  Eden  as 
the  place  of  her  dreams  —  supposing  she  ever  had 
dreams.  So  Marthy  and  Jase  and  the  four  oxen  took 
possession,  and  with  much  labor  and  many  hard  years 
for  the  woman,  and  with  the  same  number  of  years 
and  as  little  labor  as  he  could  manage  on  the  man's 
part,  they  tamed  the  Cove  and  made  it  a  beauty  spot 
in  that  wild  land.  A  beauty  spot,  though  their  lives 
held  nothing  but  treadmill  toil  and  harsh  words  and  a 
mental  horizon  narrowed  almost  to  the  limits  of  the 
grim,  gray,  rock  wall  that  surrounded  them. 

Another  sturdy-souled  couple  came  afterwards  and 
saw  the  Wolverine  and  made  for  themselves  a  home 
upon  its  banks.  And  in  the  rough  little  log  cabin  was 
born  the  girl-child  I  want  you  to  meet;  a  girl-child 
when  she  should  have  been  a  boy  to  meet  her  father's 
need  and  great  desire;  a  girl-child  whose  very  name 
was  a  compromise  between  the  parents.  For  they 
called  her  Billy  for  sake  of  the  boy  her  father  wanted, 
and  Louise  for  the  girl  her  mother  had  longed  for  to 
lighten  that  terrible  loneliness  which  the  far  frontier 
brings  to  the  women  who  brave  its  stem  emptiness. 


START  AT  THE  BEGINNING        3 

Do  you  like  children?  In  other  words,  are  you 
human?  Then  I  want  you  to  meet  -Billy  Louise  when 
she  was  ten  and  had  lived  all  her  life  among  the  rocks 
and  the  sage  and  the  stunted  cedars  and  huge,  gray  hills 
of  Idaho.  Meet  her  with  her  pin'k  sunbonnet  hanging 
down  the  Back  of  her  neck  and  her  big  eyes  taking  in 
the  squalidness  of  Marthy's  crude  kitchen  in  the  Cove, 
and  her  terrible  directness  of  speech  hitting  squarely 
the  things  she  saw  that  were  different  from  her  own 
immaculate  home.  Of  course,  if  you  don't  care  for 
children,  you  may  skip  a  chapter  and  meet  her  later 
when  she  was  eighteen  —  but  I  really  wish  you  would 
consent  to  know  her  at  ten. 

"  Mommie  makes  cookies  with  a  raising  in  the  mid- 
dle. She  gives  me  two  sometimes  when  the  Bill  of  me 
has  been  workin'  like  the  deuce  with  dad ;  one  for 
Billy  and  one  for  Louise.  When  I  'ni  twelve,  Mommie  's 
goin'  to  let  the  Louise  of  me  make  cookies  all  myself 
and  put  a  raising  on  top.  I  '11  put  two  on  top  of  one 
and  bring  it  over  for  you,  Marthy.  And  — "  Billy 
Louise  was  terribly  outspoken  at  times  —  "I  '11  put 
four  raisings  on  another  one  for  Jase,  'cause  he  don't 
have  any  nice  times  with  you.  Don't  you  ever  make 
cookies  with  raisings  on  'em,  Marthy  ?  I  'm  hungry  as 
a  coyote  —  and  I  ain't  used  to  eating  just  bread  and 
the  kinda  butter  you  have.  Mom  says  you  don't  work 
it  enough.  She  says  you  are  too  scared  of  water,  and 
the  buttermilk  ain't  all  worked  out,  so  that 's  why  it 
tastes  so  funny.  Does  Jase  like  that  kind  of  butter, 
Marthy?" 

"  If  your  mother  had  to  do  the  outside  work  as  well 


4       RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

as  the  inside,  mebbe  she  would  n't  work  her  butter  so 
awful  much,  either.  I  dunno  whether  Jase  likes  it  or 
not.  He  eats  it,"  Marthy  stated  grimly. 

Billy  Louise  sighed.  "  Well,  of  course  he  's  awful 
lazy.  Daddy  says  so.  I  guess  I  won't  put  but  one 
raising  on  Jase's  cookie  when  I'm  twelve.  Has  Jase 
gone  fishing  again,  Marthy  ? " 

A  gleam  of  satisfaction  brightened  Marthy 's  hard, 
blue  eyes,  "  No,  he  ain't.  He  's  in  the  root  suller. 
You  want  some  bread  and  some  nice,  new  honey,  Billy 
Louise?  I  jest  took  it  outa  the  hive  this  morning. 
When  you  go  home,  I  '11  send  some  to  your  maw  if  you 
can  carry  it." 

"  Sure !  I  can  carry  anything  that 's  good.  If  you 
put  it  on  thick,  so  I  can't  taste  the  bread,  I  '11  eat  it. 
Say,  you  like  me,  don't  you,  Marthy  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  Marthy,  turning  her  back  on  the  slim, 
wide-eyed  girl,  "  I  like  yuh,  Billy  Louise." 

"  You  sound  like  you  wish  you  did  n't,"  Billy  Louise 
remarked.  Even  at  ten  Billy  Louise  was  keenly  sen- 
sitive to  tones  and  glances  and  that  intangible  thing 
we  call  atmosphere.  "  Are  you  sorry  you  like  me  ?  " 

"  No-o,  I  ain't  sorry.  A  person 's  got  to  like  some- 
thing that 's  alive  and  human,  or  — "  Marthy  was 
clumsy  with  words,  and  she  was  always  coming  to  the 
barrier  between  her  powers  of  expression  and  the 
thoughts  that  were  prisoned  and  dumb.  "  Here 's  your 
bread  'n'  honey." 

"  What  makes  you  sound  that  way,  Marthy  ?  You 
sound  like  you  had  tears  inside,  and  they  could  n't  get 
out  your  eyes.  Are  you  sad?  Did  you  ever  have  a 
little  girl,  Marthy?" 


"  What  makes  you  ask  that  ? "  Marthy  sat  heavily 
down  upon  a  box  beside  the  rough  kitchen  table  and 
looked  at  Billy  Louise  queerly,  as  if  she  were  half 
afraid  of  her. 

"  I  dunno  —  but  that 's  the  way  mommie  sounds 
when  she  says  something  about  angel-brother.  Did 
you  ever  —  " 

"  Billy  Louise,  I  'm  going  to  tell  you  this  oncet,  and 
then  I  don't  want  you  to  ast  me  any  more  questions, 
nor  talk  about  it.  You  're  the  queerest  young  one  I 
ever  seen,  but  you  don't  hurt  folks  on  purpose  —  I  've 
learnt  that  much  about  yuh."  Marthy  half  rose  from 
the  box,  and  with  her  dingy,  patched  apron  shooed  an 
investigative  hen  out  of  the  doorway.  She  knew  that 
Billy  Louise  was  regarding  her  fixedly  over  the  huge, 
uneven  slice  of  bread  and  honey,  and  she  felt  vaguely 
that  a  child's  grave,  inquiring  eyes  may  be  the  hardest 
of  all  eyes  to  meet. 

"  I  never  meant  —  " 

"  I  know  yuh  never,  Billy  Louise.  Kow  don't  tell  your 
maw  this.  Long  ago  —  long  before  your  maw  ever  found 
you,  or  your  paw  ever  found  your  ranch  on  the  Wolver- 
ine, I  had  a  little  girl,  'bout  like  you.  She  was  a  purty 
child  —  her  hair  was  like  silk,  and  her  eyes  was  blue, 
and  —  we  was  Mormons,  and  we  lived  down  clost  to 
Salt  Lake.  And  I  seen  so  much  misery  amongst  the 
women-folks  —  you  can't  understand  that,  but  mebby 
you  will  when  you  grow  up.  Anyway,  when  little 
Minervy  kep'  growin'  purtyer  and  sweeter,  I  couldn't 
stand  it  to  think  of  her  growin'  up  and  bein'  a  Mormon's 
wife.  I  seen  so  many  purty  girls  .  .  .  So  I  made  up  my 
mind  we  'd  move  away  off  somewheree,  where  Minervy 


6       RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

could  grow  up  jest  as  sweet  and  purty  as  she  was  a 
mind  to,  and  not  have  to  suffer  fer  her  sweetness  and 
her  purtyness.  •  When  you  grow  up,  Billy  Louise, 
you  '11  know  what  I  mean.  So  me  and  Jase  packed 
up  —  we  kinda  had  to  do  it  on  the  sly,  on  account  uh 
the  bishops  —  and  we  struck  out  with  a  four-ox  team. 

"  We  kep'  a-goin'  and  kep'  a-goin',  fer  I  was  scared 
to  settle  too  clost.  I  seen  how  they  keep  spreadin'  out 
all  the  time,  and  I  wanted  to  git  so  fur  away  they 
would  n't  ketch  up.  And  we  got  into  bad  country, 
where  there  wasn't  no  water  skurcely.  We  swung  too 
fur  north,  and  got  into  the  desert  back  there.  And 
over  next  them  three  buttes  little  Minervy  took  sick. 
We  tried  to  git  outa  the  desert  —  we  headed  over  this 
way.  But  before  we  got  to  Snake  river  she  —  died,  and 
I  had  to  leave  'er  buried  back  there.  We  come  on.  I 
hated  the  church  worse  than  ever,  and  I  wanted 
to  git  clear  away  from  'em.  Why,  Billy  Louise,  we 
camped  one  night  by  the  Wolverine,  right  about  where 
your  paw  's  got  his  big  corral !  We  did  n't  stay  there, 
because  it  was  an  Injun  camping-ground  then,  and  they 
was  n't  no  use  getting  mixed  up  in  no  fuss,  first  thing. 
In  them  days  the  Injuns  wasn't  so  peaceable  as  they 
be  now.  So  we  come  on  here  and  settled  in  the  Cove. 

"  And  so  —  I  like  yuh,"  said  Marthy,  in  a  tone  that 
was  half  defiance,  "because  I  can't  help  likin'  yuh. 
You  're  growin'  up  sweet  and  purty,  jest  like  I  wanted 
my  little  Minervy  to  grow  up.  In  some  ways  you  re- 
mind me  of  her,  only  she  was  quieter  and  did  n't  take 
so  much  notice  of  things  a  young  one  ain't  s'posed  to 
notice.  Now  l^don't  want  you  askin'  no  more  questions 
about  her,  'cause  I  ain't  going  to  talk  about  it  ag*in; 


START  AT  THE  BEGINNING        7 

and  if  yuh  pester  me,  I  ''11  send  yuh  home  and  tell  your 
maw  to  keep  yuh  there.  If  you're  the  nice  girl  I 
think  yuh  be,  you  '11  be  good  to  Marthy  and  not  talk 
about  —  " 

Billy  Louise  opened  her  eyes  still  wider,  and  licked 
the  honey  off  one  whole  corner  of  the  slice  without 
really  tasting  anything.  Marthy's  square,  uncompro- 
mising chin  was  actually  quivering.  Billy  Louise  was 
stricken  dumb  by  the  spectacle.  She  wanted  to  go  and 
put  her  arms  around  Marthy's  neck  and  kiss  her;  only 
Marthy's  neck  had  a  hairy  mole,  and  there  was  no  part 
of  her  face  which  looked  in  the  least  degree  kissable. 
Still,  Billy  Louise  felt  herself  all  hot  inside  with  re- 
morse and  sympathy  and  affection.  Physical  contact 
being  impossible. because  of  her  fastidious  instincts,  and 
speech  upon  the  subject  being  so  sternly  forbidden, 
Billy  Louise  continued  to  lick  honey  and  stare  in  fas- 
cinated silence. 

"  I  '11  wash  the  dishes  for  you,  Marthy,"  she  offered 
irrelevantly  at  last,  as  a  supreme  sacrifice  upon  the 
altar  of  sympathy.  When  that  failed  to  stop  the  slow 
procession  of  tears  that  was  traveling  down  the  furrows 
of  Marthy's  cheeks,  she  added  ingratiatingly:  "  I  '11  put 
six  raisings  on  the  cookie  I  'in  going  to  make  for  you.'' 

Whereupon  Marthy  did  an  unprecedented,  an  utterly 
amazing  thing.  She  got  up  and  gathered  Billy  Louise 
into  her  arms  so  unexpectedly  that  Billy  Louise  in- 
advertently buried  her  nose  in  the  honey  she  had  not 
yet  licked  off  the  bread.  Marthy  held  her  close  pressed 
to  her  big,  flabby  bosom  and  wept  into  her  hair  in  a 
queer,  whimpering  way  that  somehow  made  Billy 
Louise  think  of  a  hurt  do<j.  It  was  onlv  for  a  minute 


8       RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

that  Marthy  did  this;  she  stopped  almost  as  suddenly 
as  she  began  and  went  outside,  wiping  her  eyes  and 
her  nose  impartially  upon  her  dirty  apron. 

Billy  Louise  sat  paralyzed  with  the  mixture  of  un- 
usual emotions  that  assailed  her.  She  was  exceedingly 
sticky  and  uncomfortable  from  honey  and  tears,  and 
she  shivered  with  repugnance  at  the  odor  of  Marthy '9 
unbathed  person.  She  was  astonished  at  the  outburst 
from  phlegmatic  Marthy  Meilkc,  and  her  pity  was  now 
alloyed  with  her  promise  to  wash  all  those  dirty  dishes. 
Billy  Louise  felt  that  she  had  been  a  trifle  hasty  in 
making  promises.  There  was  not  a  drop  of  water  in 
the  house  nor  a  bit  of  wood,  and  Billy  Louise  knew 
perfectly  well  that  the  dishpan  would  have  a  greasy, 
unpleasant  feeling  under  her  fastidious  little  fingers. 

She  sighed  heavily.  "  Well,  I  s'pose  I  might  just  as 
well  get  to  work  at  'em,"  she  said  aloud,  as  was  her 
habit  —  being  a  child  who  had  no  playmates.  "  I  hate 
to  dread  a  thing  I  hate." 

She  looked  at  the  messy  slice  of  sour  bread  and 
threw  it  out  to  the  speckled  hen  that  had  returned  and 
was  standing  with  one  foot  lifted  tentatively  —  ready 
for  a  forward  step  if  the  fates  seemed  kind  —  and  was 
regarding  Billy  Louise  fixedly  with  one  yellow  eye. 
"  Take  it  and  go !  "  cried  the  donor,  impatient  of  the 
scrutiny.  She  picked  up  the  wooden  pail  and  went 
down  to  the  creek  behind  the  house,  by  a  pathway  bor- 
dered thickly  with  budding  rosebushes  and  tall  lilacs. 

Billy  Louise  first  of  all  washed  her  face  slowly  and 

with  a  methodic  thoroughness  which  characterized  her 

-  having  lived  for  ten  full  years  with  no  realization 

of  hours  and  minutes  as  a  measure  for  her  actions. 


START  AT  THE  BEGINNING        9 

She  dried  her  face  quite  as  deliberately  upon  her 
starched  calico  apron.  Then  she  spent  a  few  minutes 
trying  to  catch  a  baby  trout  in  her  cupped  palms. 
Never  had  Billy  Louise  succeeded  in  catching  a  baby 
trout  in  her  hands ;  therefore  she  never  tired  of  trying. 
Now,  however,  that  rash  promise  nagged  at  her  and 
would  not  let  her  enjoy  the  game  as  completely  as 
usual.  She  took  the  wooden  pail,  and  squatting  on  her 
heels  in  the  wet  sand,  waited  until  a  small  school  swam 
incautiously  close  to  the  bank,  and  scooped  suddenly, 
with  a  great  splash.  She  caught  three  tiny,  speckled 
fish  the  length  of  her  little  finger,  and  she  let  the  half- 
full  pail  rest  in  the  shallow  stream,  while  she  watched 
the  fry  swimming  excitedly  round  and  round  within. 

There  was  no  great  fun  in  that.  Billy  Louise  could 
catch  baby  trout  in  a  pail  at  home,  from  the  waters  of 
the  Wolverine,  whenever  she  liked.  Many  a  time  she 
had  kept  them  in  a  big  bottle  until  she  tired  of  watching 
them,  or  they  died  because  she  forgot  to  change  the 
water  often  enough.  She  could  not  get  even  a  languid 
enjoyment  out  of  them  now,  because  she  could  not  for 
a  minute  forget  that  she  had  promised  to  wash  Marthy's 
dishes  —  and  Marthy  always  had  so  many  dirty  dishes ! 
And  Marthy's  dishpan  was  so  greasy!  Billy  Louise 
gave  a  little  shudder  when  she  thought  of  it. 

"  I  wish  her  little  girl  had  n't  died,"  she  said,  her 
mind  swinging  from  effect  back  to  cause.  "  I  could 
play  with  her.  And  she'd  wash  the  dishes  herself. 
I  'm  going  to  name  my  new  little  pig  Minervy.  I  wish 
she  had  n't  died.  I  'd  show  her  my  little  pig,  if 
Marthy  'd  let  her  come  over  to  our  place.  We  could 
both  ride  on  old  Badger;  Minervy  could  ride  behind 


10     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

me,  and  we  'd  go  places  together."  Billy  Louise  medi- 
tatively stirred  up  the  baby  trout  with  a  forefinger. 
"  We  'd  go  up  the  canyon  and  have  the  caves  for  our 
play-houses.  Minervy  could  have  the  secret  cave  away 
up  the  hill,  and  I  'd  have  the  other  one  across  from  it ; 
and  we  'd  have  flags  and  wigwag  messages  like  daddy 
tells  about  in  the  war.  And  we  'd  play  the  rabbits  are 
Injuns,  and  the  coyotes  are  big-Injun-chiefs  sneaking 
down  to  see  if  the  forts  are  watching.  And  whichever 
seen  a  coyote  first  would  wigwag  to  the  other  one  .  .  ." 
A  baby  trout,  taking  advantage  of  the  pail  tipping  in 
the  current,  gave  a  flip  over  the  edge  and  interrupted 
Billy  Louise's  fancies.  She  gave  the  pail  a  tilt  and 
spilled  out  the  other  two  fish.  Then  she  filled  it  as 
full  as  she  could  carry  and  started  back  to  pay  the 
price  of  her  sympathy. 

"  I  don't  see  what  Minervy  had  to  go  and  die  for!  " 
she  complained,  dodging  a  low-hanging  branch  of  bloom- 
laden  lilac.  "  She  could  wash  the  dishes  and  I  'd  wipe 
'em  —  and  I  s'pose  there  ain't  a  clean  dish-towel  in  the 
house,  either !  Marthy  's  an  awful  slack  housekeeper." 

Billy  Louise,  being  a  young  person  with  a  conscience 
—  of  a  sort  —  washed  the  dishes,  since  she  had  given 
her  word  to  do  it.  The  dishpan  was  even  more  un- 
pleasant than  experience  had  foretold  for  her;  and  of 
Marthy 's  somewhat  meager  supply  there  seemed  not  one 
clean  dish  in  the  house.  The  sympathy  of  Billy  Louise 
therefore  waned  rapidly;  rather,  it  turned  in  upon 
itself.  So  that  by  the  time  she  felt  morally  free  to 
spend  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  as  she  pleased,  she  was 
not  at  all  sorry  for  Marthy  for  having  lost  Minervy; 
instead,  she  was  sorry  for  herself  for  having  been  be- 


START  AT  THE  BEGINNING       11 

trayed  into  rashness  and  for  being  deprived  of  a  play- 
mate. 

"  I  don't  s'pose  Marthy  doctored  her  right,  at-  all," 
she  considered  pitilessly,  as  she  returned  down  the  lilac- 
bordered  path.  "  If  she  had,  I  guess  she  would  n't 
have  died.  I  '11  bet  she  never  gave  her  a  speck  of  sage 
tea,  like  mommie  always  does  when  I  'm  sick  —  only' 
I  ain't  ever,  thank  goodness.  I  'm  just  going  to  ask 
Jase  if  Marthy  did." 

On  the  way  to  the  root  cellar,  which  was  dug  into 
the  creek-bank  well  above  high-water  mark,  Billy 
Louise  debated  within  herself  the  ethics  of  speaking  to 
Jase  upon  a  forbidden  subject.  Jase  had  been  Mi- 
nervy's  father,  and  therefore  knew  of  her  existence,  so 
that  mentioning  Minervy  to  him  could  not  in  any  sense 
be  betraying  a  secret.  She  wondered  if  Jase  felt  badly 
about  it,  as  Marthy  seemed  to  do.  On  the  heels  of  that 
came  the  determination  to  test  his  emotional  capacity. 

At  the  root  cellar  her  attention  was  diverted.  The 
cellar  door  was  fastened  on  the  outside,  with  the  iron 
hasp  used  to  protect  the  store  of  vegetables  from  the 
weather.  Jase  must  be  gone.  She  was  turning  away 
when  she  heard  him  clear  his  throat  with  that  peculiar 
little  hacking,  rasping  noise  which  sounded  exactly  as 
one  would  expect  a  Jase  to  sound.  Billy  Louise  puck- 
ered her  eyebrows,  pressed  her  lips  together  under- 
standingly  —  and  disapprovingly  —  and  opened  the 
door. 

Jase,  humped  over  a  heap  of  sprouting  potatoes, 
blinked  up  apathetically  into  the  sudden  flood  of  sweet, 
spring  air  and  sunshine.  "  Why,  hello,  Billy  Louise," 
he  mumbled,  his  eyes  brightening  a  bit. 


12     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

!  "  Say,  you  was  locked  in  here !  "  Billy  Louise  faced 
him  puzzled.  "  Did  you  know  you  was  locked  in  ? " 

"  Yes-s,  I  knowed  it.  Marthy,  she  locked  the  door." 
Jase  reached  out  a  bony  hand  covered  with  carrot- 
colored  hairs  and  picked  up  a  shriveling  potato  with 
long,  sickly  sprouts  proclaiming  life's  persistence  in 
perpetuating  itself  under  adverse  circumstances.  He 
broke  off  the  sprouts  with  a  wipe  of  his  dirty  palm  and 
threw  the  potato  into  a  heap  in  the  corner. 

"  What  for  ? "  Billy  Louise  demanded,  watching 
Jase  reach  languidly  out  for  another  potato. 

"  She  seen  me  diggin'  bait,"  Jase  said  tonelessly. 
"  I  did  think  some  of  ketchin'  a  mess  of  fish  before  I 
went  to  sproutin'  p'tatoes,  but  Marthy  she  don't  take  no 
int'rest  in  nothin'  but  work." 

"  Are  the  fish  biting  good  ?  "  Billy  Louise  glanced 
toward  the  wider  stream,  where  it  showed  through  a 
gap  in  the  alders. 

"  Yes-s,  purty  good  now.  I  caught  a  nice  mess  the 
other  day;  but  Marthy,  she  don't  favor  my  goin' 
fishin'."  The  lean  hands  of  Jase  moved  slowly  at  his 
task.  Billy  Louise,  watching  him,  wondered  why  he 
did  not  hurry  a  little  and  finish  sooner.  Still,  she  could 
not  remember  ever  seeing  Jase  hurry  at  anything,  and 
the  Cove  with  its  occupants  was  one  of  het  very  earliest 
memories. 

"  Say,  I  '11  dig  some  more  bait,  and  then  we  '11  go 
fishing ;  shall  we  ?  " 

"I  —  dunno  as  I  better  —  "  Jase's  hand  hovered 
aimlessly  over  the  potato  pile.  "  I  got  quite  a  lot 
sprouted,  though  —  and  mebby  —  " 

"  I  '11  lock  you  in  till  I  get  the  bait  dug,"  suggested 


START  AT  THE  BEGINNING      13 

Billy  Louise  craftily.  "  And  you  work  fast ;  and  then 
I'll  let  you  out,  and  we'll  lock  the  door  agin,  so 
Marthy  '11  think  you  're  in  there  yet." 

"  You  're  sure  smart  to  think  up  things,"  Jase  ad- 
mired, smiling  loose-lipped  behind  his  scraggly  beard, 
that  was  fading  with  the  years.  "  I  dunno  but  what 
it  'd  serve  Marthy  right.  She  ain't  got  no  call  to  lock 
the  door  on  me.  She  hates  like  sin  t'  see  me  with  a 
fish-pole  in  m'  hand  —  but  she  's  always  et  her  share 
uh  the  messes  I  ketch.  She  ain't  a  reasonable  woman, 
Marthy  ain't.  You  git  the  bait.  I  '11  show  Marthy 
who 's  boss  in  this  Cove !  " 

He  might  have  encouraged  himself  into  defying 
Marthy  to  her  face,  in  another  five  minutes  of  com- 
plaining. But  the  cellar  door  closed  upon  him  with  a 
slam.  Billy  Louise  was  not  interested  in  his  opinion 
of  Marthy;  with  her,  opinions  were  valueless  if  not 
accompanied  by  action. 

"  I  never  thought  to  ask  him  about  Minervy,"  oc- 
curred to  her  while  she  was  relentlessly  dragging  pale, 
fleshly  fishworms  from  the  loose  black  soil  of  Marthy's 
onion  bed.  "  But  I  know  she  was  mean  to  Minervy. 
She  's  awful  mean  to  Jase  —  locking  him  up  in  the 
root  cellar  just  'cause  he  wanted  to  go  fishing.  If  I 
was  Jase  I  would  n't  sprout  a  single  old  potato  for  her. 
My  goodness,  but  she  '11  be  mad  when  she  opens  the 
cellar  door  and  Jase  ain't  in  there ;  I  —  guess  I  '11  go 
home  early,  before  Marthy  finds  it  out." 

She  really  meant  to  do  that,  but  the  fish  were  hun- 
gry fish  that  day,  and  the  joy  of  having  a  companion 
to  exclaim  with  her  over  every  hard  tug  —  even  though 
that  companion  was  only  •  Jase  —  enticed  her  to  stay 


14     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

on  and  on,  until  a  whiff  of  frying  pork  on  the  breeze 
that  swept  down  the  Cove  warned  Billy  Louise  of  the 
near  approach  of  supper-time. 

"  I  guess  inebby  I  might  as  well  go  back  to  the 
suller,"  Jase  remarked,  his  defiance  weakening  as  he 
climbed  the  bank.  "  You  come  and  lock  the  door  agin, 
Billy  Louise,  and  Marthy  won't  know  I  ain't  been  there 
all  the  time.  She  '11  think  you  caught  the  fish."  He 
looked  at  her  with  a  weak  leer  of  conscious  cunning. 

Billy  Louise,  groping  vaguely  for  the  sunbonnet  that 
was  dangling  between  her  straight  shoulder-blades, 
stared  at  him  with  wide  eyes  that  held  disillusionment 
and  with  it  a  contempt  all  the  keener  because  it  was  the 
contempt  of  a  child,  whose  judgment  is  merciless. 

"  I  should  thing  you  'd  be  ashamed !  "  she  said  at 
last,  forgetting  that  the  idea  had  been  born  in  her  own 
brain.  "  Cowards  do  things  and  then  sneak  about  it. 
Daddy  says  so.  I  don't  care  if  Marthy  is  mad  'cause  I 
let  you  out,  and  I  don't  care  if  she  knows  we  went 
fishing.  I  thought  you  wanted  Marthy  to  see  she  ain't 
so  smart,  locking  you  up  in  the  cellar.  I  ain't  going  to 
bake  you  a  single  cookie  with  raisings  on  it,  like  I  was 
going  to." 

"  Marthy  's  got  a  sharp  tongue  in  'er  head,"  Jase 
wavered,  his  eyes  shifting  from  Billy  Louise's  uncom- 
promising stare. 

"  Daddy  says  when  you  do  a  thing  that 's  mean,  do 
it  and  take  your  medicine,"  Billy  Louise  retorted. 
"  The  boy  of  me  that  belongs  to  dad  ain't  a  sneak,  Jase 
Meilke.  And,"  she  added  loftily,  "the  girl  of  me  that 
belongs  to  mommie  is  a  perfeck  lady.  Good  day,  Mr. 
Meilke.  Thank  you  for  a  pleasant  time  fishing." 


START  AT  THE  BEGINNING       15 

Whereupon  the  perfect  lady  part  switched  short 
skirts  up  the  path  and  held  a  tousled  head  high  with 
disdain, 

Jase,  thus  deserted,  went  shambling  back  to  the  cel- 
lar and  fell  to  sprouting  potatoes  with  what  might  al- 
most be  termed  industry. 

It  pained  Jase  later  to  discover  that  Marthy  was 
not  interested  in  the  open  door,  but  in  the  very  small 
heap  of  potatoes  which  he  had  "  sprouted  "  that  after- 
noon. There  was  other  work  to  be  done  in  the  Cove, 
and  there  were  but  two  pairs  of  hands  to  do  it;  that 
one  pair  was  slow  and  shiftless  and  inefficient  was  bit- 
terly accepted  by  Marthy,  who  worked  from  sunrise 
until  dark  to  make  up  for  the  shirking  of  those  other 
hands. 

It  was  the  trail  experience  over  again,  and  it  was  an 
experience  that  dragged  through  the  years  without 
change  or  betterment.  Marthy  wanted  to  "  get  ahead." 
Jase  wanted  to  sit  in  the  sun  with  his  knees  drawn  up,, 
just  —  I  don't  know  what,  but  I  suppose  he  called  it 
thinking.  When  he  felt  unusually  energetic,  he  liked 
to  dangle  an  impaled  worm  over  a  trout  pool.  Theo- 
retically he  also  wanted  to  get  ahead  and  to  have  a  fine 
ranch  and  lots  of  cattle  and  a  comfortable  home.  He 
would  plan  these  things  sometimes  in  an  expansive  mood, 
whereupon  Marthy  would  stare  at  him  with  her  hard, 
contemptuous  look  until  Jase  trailed  off  into  mum- 
bling complaints  into  his  beard.  He  was  not  as  able- 
bodied  as  she  thought  he  was,  he  would  say,  with  vague 
solemnity.  Some  uh  these  days  Marthy 'd  see  how  she 
had  driven  him  beyond  his  strength. 

When  one  is  a  Marthy,  however,  with  ambitions  and 


16     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

a  tireless  energy  and  the  persistence  of  a  beaver,  and 
when  one  listens  to  vague  mutterings  for  many  hard 
laboring  years,  one  grows  accustomed  to  the  complain- 
ings and  fails  to  see  certain  warning  symptoms  of  which 
even  the  complainer  is  only  vaguely  aware. 

She  kept  on  working  through  the  years,  and  as  far 
as  was  humanly  possible  she  kept  Jase  working.  She 
did  not  soften,  except  toward  Billy  Louise,  who  rode 
sometimes  over  from  her  father's  ranch  on  the  Wolver- 
ine to  the  flowery  delights  of  the  Cove.  The  place  was 
a  perfect  jungle  of  sweetness,  seven  months  of  each 
year ;  for  Marthy  owned  and  indulged  a  love  of  beauty, 
even  if  she  could  not  realize  her  dream  of  prosperity. 
Wherever  was  space  in  the  house-yard  for  a  flower  or 
a  fruit  tree  or  a  berry  bush,  Marthy  planted  one  or  the 
other.  You  could  not  see  the  cabin  from  April  until 
the  leaves  fell  in  late  October,  except  in  a  fragmentary 
way  as  you  walked  around  it.  You  went  in  at  a  gate 
of  pickets  which  Marthy  herself  had  split  and  nailed 
in  place ;  you  followed  a  narrow,  winding  path  through 
the  sweet  jungle  —  and  if  you  were  tall,  you  stooped 
now  and  then  to  pass  under  an  apple  branch.  And 
unless  you  looked  up  at  the  black,  lava-rock  rim  of  the 
bluff  which  cupped  this  Eden  incongruously,  you  would 
forget  that  just  over  the  brim  lay  parched  plain  and 
barren  mountain. 

When  Billy  Louise  was  twelve,  she  had  other  am- 
bitions than  the  making  of  cookies  with  "  raisings  "  on 
them.  She  wanted  to  do  something  big,  though  she  was 
hazy  as  to  the  particular  nature  of  that  big  something. 
She  tried  to  talk  it  over  with  Marthy,  but  Marthy  could 
not  seem  to  think  beyond  the  Cove,  except  that  now  and 


START  AT  THE  BEGINNING      17 

then  Billy  Louise  would  suspect  that  her  mind  did 
travel  to  the  desert  and  Minervy's  grave.  Marthy's 
hair  was  growing  streaked  with  yellowish  gray,  though 
it  never  grew  less  unkempt  and  dusty  'looking.  Her 
eyes  were  harder,  if  anything,  except  when  they  rested 
on  Billy  Lfluise. 

When  she  was  thirteen,  Billy  Louise  rode  over  with 
a  loaf  of  bread  she  had  baked  all  by  herself,  and  she 
put  this  problem  to  Marthy: 

"  I  've  been  thinking  I  'd  go  ahead  and  write  poetry, 
Marthy  —  a  whole  book  of  it  with  pictures.  But  I  do 
love  to  make  bread  —  and  people  have  to  eat  bread. 
Which  would  you  be,  Marthy ;  a  poet,  or  a  cook  \ " 

Marthy  looked  at  her  a  minute,  lent  her  attention 
briefly  to  the  question,  and  gave  what  she  considered 
good  advice. 

"  You  learn  how  to  cook,  Billy  Louise.  Yuh  don't 
want  to  go  and  get  notions.  Your  maw  ain't  healthy, 
and  your  paw  likes  good  grub.  Po'try  is  all  foolish- 
ness; there  ain't  any  money  in  it." 

"Walter  Scott  paid  his  debts  writing  poetry,"  said 
Billy  Louise  argumentatively.  She  had  just  read  all 
about  Walter  Scott  in  a  magazine  which  a  passing  cow- 
boy had  given  her;  perhaps  that  had  something  to  do 
with  her  new  ambition. 

"  Mebby  he  did  and  mebby  he  did  n't.  I  'd  like  to  see 
our  debts  paid  off  with  po'try.  It  'd  have  to  be  worth 
a  hull  lot  more  'n  what  I  'd  give  for  it." 

"  Oh.  Have  you  got  debts  too,  Marthy  ? "  Billy 
Louise  at  thirteen  was  still  ready  with  sympathy. 
"  Daddy  's  got  lots  and  piles  of  'em.  He  bought  some 
cattle  and  now  he  talks  to  mommie  all  the  time  about 


18     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

debts.  Mommie  wants  me  to  go  to  Boise  to  school, 
next  winter,  to  Aunt  Sarah's.  And  daddy  says  there 's 
debts  to  pay.  I  did  n't  know  you  had  any,  Marthy." 

"Well,  I  have  got.  We  bought  some  cattle,  too  — 
and  they  ain't  done  's  well 's  they  might.  If  I  had  a 
man  that  was  any  good  on  earth,  I  could  put  up  more 
hay.  But  I  can't  git  nothing  outa  Jase  but  whines. 
Your  paw  oughta  send  you  to  school,  Billy  Louise,  even 
if  he  has  got  debts.  1 7d  'a'  sent  —  " 

She  stopped  there,  but  Billy  Louise  knew  how  she 
finished  the  sentence  mentally.  She  would  have  sent 
Minervy  to  school. 

"  Your  paw  ain't  got  any  right  to  keep  you  outa 
school,"  Marthy  went  on  aggressively.  "  Debts  er  no 
debts,  he'd  see't  you  got  schoolin'  —  if  he  was  the 
right  kinda  man." 

"  Daddy  is  the  right  kinda  man.  He  ain't  like  Jase. 
He  says  he  wishes  he  could,  but  he  don't  know  where 
the  money  's  coming  from." 

"  How  much 's  it  goin'  to  take  ? "  asked  Marthy 
heavily. 

"  Oh,  piles."  Billy  Louise  spoke  airily  to  hide  her 
pride  in  the  importance  of  the  subject.  "  Fifty  dollars, 
I  guess.  I  've  got  to  have  some  new  clothes,  mommie 
says.  I  'd  like  a  blue  dress." 

"  And  your  paw  can't  raise  fifty  dollars  ?  "  Marthy's 
tone  was  plainly  belligerent. 

"  Got  to  pay  interest,"  said  Billy  Louise  importantly. 

Marthy  said  not  another  word  about  debts  or  the 
duties  of  parents.  What  she  did  was  more  to  the  point, 
however,  for  she  hitched  the  mules  to  a  rattly  old  buck- 
board  next  day  and  drove  over  to  the  MacDonald  ranch 


START  AT  THE  BEGINNING       19 

on  the  Wolverine.  She  carried  fifty  dollars  in  her 
pocket  —  and  that  was  practically  all  the  money  Marthy 
possessed,  and  had  been  saved  for  the  debts  that  har- 
assed her.  She  gave  the  money  to  Billy  Louise's 
mother  and  said  that  it  was  a  present  for  Billy  Louise, 
and  meant  for  "  school  money."  She  said  that  she 
had  n't  any  girl  of  her  own  to  spend  the  money  on, 
and  that  Billy  Louise  was  a  good  girl  and  a  smart  irirl, 
and  she  wanted  to  do  a  little  something  toward  her 
schooling. 

A  woman  will  sacrifice  "more  pride  than  you  would 
believe,  if  she  sees  a  way  toward  helping  her  children 
to  an  education.  Mrs.  MacDonald  took  the  money,  and 
she  promised  secrecy  —  with  a  feeling  of  relief  that 
Marthy  wished  it.  She  was  astonished  to  find  that 
Marthy  had  any  feelings  not  directly  connected  with 
work  or  the  shortcomings  of  Jase,  but  she  never  sus- 
pected that  Marthy  had  made  any  sacrifice  for  Billy 
Louise. 

So  Billy  Louisje  went  away  to  school  and  never  knew 
whose  money  had  made  it  possible  to  go,  and  Marthy 
worked  harder  and  drove  Jase  more  relentlessly  to  make 
up  that  fifty  dollars.  She  never  mentioned  the  matter 
to  anyone.  The  next  year  it  was  the  same;  when,  in 
August,  she  questioned  Billy  Louise  clumsily  upon 
the  subject  of  finances,  and  learned  that  "  daddy  "  still 
talked  about  debts  and  interest  and  did  n't  know  where 
the  money  was  coming  from,  she  drove  over  again  with 
money  for  the  "  schooling."  And  again  she  extracted  a 
promise  of  silence. 

She  did  this  for  four  years,  and  not  a  soul  knew 
that  it  cost  her  anything  in  the  way  of  extra  work  and 


20     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

extra  harassment  of  mind.  She  bought  more  cattle 
and  cut  more  hay  and  went  deeper  into  debt;  for  as 
Billy  Louise  grew  older  and  prettier  and  more  accus- 
tomed to  the  ways  of  town,  she  needed  more  money,  and 
the  August  gift  grew  proportionately  larger.  The 
mother  was  thankful  beyond  the  point  of  questioning. 
An  August  without  Marthy  and  Marthy's  gift  of  money 
would  have  been  a  tragedy;  and  so  selfish  is  mother- 
love  sometimes  that  she  would  have  accepted  the  gift 
even  if  she  had  known  what  it  cost  the  giver. 

At  eighteen,  then,  Billy  Louise  knew  some  things 
not  taught  by  the  wide  plains  and  the  wild  hills  around 
her.  She  was  not  spoiled  by  her  little  learning,  which 
was  a  good  thing.  And  when  her  father  died  tragically 
beneath  ari  overturned  load  of  poles  from  the  mountain 
at  the  head  of  the  canyon,  Billy  Louise  came  home. 
The  Billy  of  her  tried  to  take  his  place,  and  the  Louise 
of  her  attempted  to  take  care  of  her  mother,  who  was 
unfitted  both  by  nature  and  habit  to  take  care  of  her- 
self. Which  was,  after  all,  a  rather  big  thing  for  any- 
one, to  attempt. 


CHAPTER  H 

A  STOBM   AND  A   STRANGER 

JASE  began  to  complain  of  having  "all-gone" 
feelings  during  the  winter  after  Billy  Louise  came 
home  and  took  up  the  whole  burden  of  the  Wolverine 
ranch.  He  complained  to  Billy  Louise,  when  she  rode 
over  one  clear,  sunny  day  in  January;  he  said  that  he 
was  getting  old  —  which  was  perfectly  true  —  and  that 
he  was  not  as  able-bodied  as  he  might  be,  and  didn't 
expect  to  last  much  longer.  Billy  Louise  spoke  of  it 
to  Marthy,  and  Marthy  snorted. 

"  He 's  able-bodied  enough  at  mealtimes,  I  notice/' 
she  retorted.  "  I  've  heard  that  tune  ever  since  I 
knowed  him ;  he  can't  fool  me !  " 

"  Xot  about  the  all-goneness,  have  you?"  Billy 
Louise  was  preparing  to  wipe  the  dishes  for  Marthy. 
"  I  know  he  always  had  '  cricks '  in  different  parts  of 
his  anatomy,  but  I  never  heard  about  his  feeling  all- 
gone,  before.  That  sounds  mysterious,  don't  you 
think?" 

"  No ;  and  he  never  had  nothin'  the  matter  with  his 
anatomy,  neither ;  his  anatomy  's  just  as  sound  as  mine. 
Jase  was  born  lazy,  is  all  ails  him." 

"  But,  Marthy,  have  n't  you  noticed  he  does  n't  look 
as  well  as  he  used  to?  He  has  a  sort  of  gray  look, 
don't  you  think?  And  his  eyes  are  so  puffy  under- 
neath, lately." 


22     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

"  No,  I  ain't  noticed  nothing  wrong  with  him  that 
ain't  always  heen  wrong."  Marthy  spoke  grudgingly, 
as  if  she  resented  even  the  possibility  of  Jase's  having 
a  real  ailment.  "  He 's  feelin'  his  years,  mebby.  But 
he  ain't  no  call  to ;  Jase  ain't  but  three  years  older  'n 
I  be,  and  I  ain't  but  fifty-nine  last  birthday.  And  I  've 
worked  and  slaved  here  in  this  Cove  fer  twenty-seven 
years,  now;  what  it  is  I've  made  it.  Jase  ain't  ever 
done  a  hand's  turn  that  he  was  n't  obliged  to  do.  I  've 
chopped  wood,  and  I  've  built  corrals  and  dug  ditches, 
and  Jase  has  puttered  around  and  whined  that  he 
was  n't  able-bodied  enough  to  do  no  heavy  lifting. 
That  there  orchard  out  there  I  planted  and  packed 
water  in  buckets  to  it  till  I  got  the  ditch  through. 
Them  corrals  down  next  the  river  I  built.  I  dug  the 
post-holes,  and  Jase  set  the  posts  in  and  held  'em  steady 
while  I  tamped  the  dirt!  In  winter  I've  hauled  hay 
and  fed  the  cattle;  and  Jase,  he  packed  a  bucket  uh 
slop,  mebby,  to  the  pigs !  If  he  ain't  as  able-bodied  as 
I  be,  it 's  because  he  ain't  done  nothing  to  git  strong  on. 
He  can't  come  around  me  now  with  that  all-gone  feeling 
uh  his;  I  know  Jase  Meilke  like  a  book." 

There  was  more  that  she  said  about  Jase.  Standing 
there,  a  squat,  unkempt  woman  with  a  seamed,  leathery 
face  and  hard  eyes  now  quite  faded  to  gray,  she  told 
Billy  Louise  a  good  deal  of  the  bitterness  of  the  years 
behind;  years  of  hardship  and  of  slavish  toil  and  no 
love  to  lighten  it.  She  spoke  again  of  Minervy,  and 
the  name  brought  back  to  Billy  Louise  poignant  mem- 
ories of  her  own  lonely  childhood  and  of  her  "  pretend  " 
playmate. 

Half  shyly,  because  she  was  still  sometimes  touched 


A  STORM  AND  A  STRANGER      23 

with  the  inarticulateness  of  youth,  Billy  Louise  told 
Marthy  a  little  of  that  playmate.  "  Why,  do  you  know, 
every  time  I  rode  old  Badger  anywhere,  after  that  day 
you  told  me  about  Minervy,  I  used  to  pretend  that 
Minervy  rode  behind  me.  I  used  to  talk  to  her  by 
the  hour  and  take  her  places.  And  up  our  canyon  is 
a  cave  that  I  used  to  play  was  Minervy's  cave.  I  had 
another  one,  and  I  used  to  go  over  and  visit  Minervy. 
And  I  had  another  pretend  playmate  —  a  boy  —  and 
we  used  to  have  adventures.  It 's  a  queer  place ;  I  just 
found  that  cave  by  accident.  I  don't  believe  there 's 
another  person  in  the  country  who  knows  it 's  there  at 
all.  Well,  that 's  Minervy's  cave  to  me  yet.  And, 
Marthy  —  "  Billy  Louise  giggled  a  little  and  eyed  the 
old  woman  with  a  sidelong  look  that  would  have  set 
a  young  man's  blood  a- jump  —  ''  I  hope  you  won't  be 
mad;  I  was  just  a  kid,  and  I  did  n't  know  any  better. 
But  just  to  show  you  how  much  I  thought:  I  had  a 
little  pig,  and  I  named  it  Minervy,  after  you  told  me 
about  her.  And  mommie  told  me  that  was  no  name 
for  it ;  it  was  —  it  was  n't  a  girl  pig,  mommie  said. 
So  I  called  it  Man-ervy,  as  the  next  best  thing."  She 
gave  Marthy  another  wasted  glance  from  the  corners 
of  her  eyes.  "  Oh,  Marthy !  "  she  cried  remorsefully, 
setting  down  the  gravy  bowl  that  she  might  pat  Marthy 
on  her  fat,  age-rounded  shoulder.  "  What  a  little  beast 
I  am !  I  should  n't  have  told  that ;  but  honest,  I  thought 
it  was  an  honor.  I  —  I  just  worshiped  that  pig !  " 

Jase  maundered  in  at  that  moment,  and  Marthy, 
catching  up  a  corner  of  her  dirty  apron  —  Billy  Louise 
could  not  remember  ever  seeing  Marthy  in  a  perfectly 
clean  dress  or  apron  —  wiped  away  what  traces  of 


24     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

emotion  her  weathered  face  could  reveal.  Also,  she 
turned  and  glared  at  Jase  with  what  Billy  Louise  con- 
sidered a  perfectly  uncalled-for  animosity.  In  reality, 
Marthy  was  covertly  looking  for  visible  symptoms  of 
the  all-goneness.  She  shut  her  harsh  lips  together 
tightly  at  what  she  saw ;  Jase  certainly  was  puffy  under 
his  watery,  pink-rimmed  eyes,  and  the  withered  cheeks 
above  his  thin  graying  beard  really  did  have  a  pasty, 
gray  look. 

"  D'  you  turn  them  calves  out  into  the  corral  ?  "  she 
demanded,  her  voice  harder  because  of  her  secret  un- 
easiness. 

"  I  was  goin'  to,  but  the  wind  's  changed  into  the 
north,  'n'  I  thought  mebby  you  would  n't  want  'em  out." 
Jase  turned  back  aimlessly  to  the  door.  His  voice  was 
getting  cracked  and  husky,  and  the  deprecating  note 
dominated  pathetically  all  that  he  said.  "  You  '11  have 
to  face  the  wind  goin'  home,"  he  said  to  Billy  Louise. 
"  More  'n  likely  you  '11  be  facin'  snow,  too.  Looks  bad, 
off  that  way." 

"  You  go  on  and  turn  them  calves  out !  "  Marthy 
commanded  him  harshly.  "  Billy  Louise  ain't  goin' 
home  if  it  storms ;  I  sh'd  think  you  'd  know  enough  to 
know  that." 

"  Oh,  but  I  '11  have  to  go,  anyway,"  the  girl  inter- 
rupted. "  Mommie  can't  be  there  alone ;  she  'd  worry 
herself  to  death  if  I  didn't  show  up  by  dark.  She 
worries  about  every  little  thing  since  daddy  died.  I 
ought  to  have  gone  before  —  or  I  ought  n't  to  have  come. 
But  she  was  worrying  about  you,  Marthy ;  she  had  n't 
seen  or  heard  of  you  for  a  month,  and  she  was  afraid 
you  might  be  sick  or  something.  Why  don't  you  gvt 


A  STORM  AND  A  STRANGER      25 

someone  to  stay  with  you?  I  think  you  ought  to." 
She  looked  toward  the  door,  which  Jase  had  closed  upon 
his  departure.  "  If  Jase  should  —  get  sick,  or  any- 
thing— " 

"  Jase  ain't  goin'  to  git  sick,"  Marthy  retorted 
glumly.  !i  Yuh  don't  want  to  let  him  worry  yuh,  Billy 
Louise.  If  I  'd  worried  every  time  he  yowled  around 
about  being  sick,  I  'd  be  dead  or  crazy  by  now.  I 
dunno  but  maybe  I  '11  have  somebody  to  help  with  the 
work,  though,"  she  added,  after  a  pause  during  which 
she  had  swiped  the  dish-rag  around  the  sides  of  the 
pan  once  or  twice,  and  had  opened  the  door  and  thrown 
the  water  out  beyond  the  doorstep  like  the  sloven  she 
was.  "  I  got  a  nephew  that  wants  to  come  out.  He  's 
been  in  a  bank,  but  he  's  quit  and  wants  to  git  on  to 
a  ranch.  I  dunno  but  I  '11  have  him  come,  in  the 
spring." 

"  Do,"  urged  Billy  Louise,  perfectly  unconscious  of 
the  potentialities  of  the  future.  "  I  hate  to  think  of 
you  two  down  here  alone.  I  don't  suppose  anyone 
ever  comes  down  here,  except  me  —  and  that  isn't 
often." 

"  Nobody  's  got  any  call  to  come  down,"  said  Marthy 
stolidly.  "  They  sure  ain't  going  to  come  for  our 
comp'ny  and  there  ain't  nothing  else  to  bring  'em." 

"  Well,  there  are  n't  many  to  come,  you  know," 
laughed  Billy  Louise,  shaking  out  the  dish  towel  and 
spreading  it  over  two  nails,  as  she  did  at  home.  "  I  'm 
your  nearest  neighbor,  and  I  're  got  six  miles  to  ride  — 
against  the  wind,  at  that.  I  think  I  'd  better  start. 
We've  got  a  halfbreed  doing  chores  for  us,  but  the  has 
to  be  looked  after  or  he  neglects  things.  I  '11  not  get 


26     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

another  chance  to  come  very  soon,  I  'm  afraid ;  mommie 
hates  to  have  me  ride  around  much  in  the  winter.  You 
send  for  that  nephew  right  away,  why  don't  you, 
Marthy  ?  "  It  was  like  Billy  Louise  to  mix  command 
and  entreaty  together.  V  Eeally,  I  don't  think  Jase 
looks  a  bit  well." 

"  A  good  strong  steepin'  of  sage  '11  fix  him  ull  ^ight, 
only  he  ain't  sick,  as  I  see.  You  take  this  shawi." 

Billy  Louise  refused  the  shawl  and  ran  down  the 
twisted  path  fringed  with  long,  reaching  fingers  of 
the  bare  berry  bushes.  At  the  stable  she  stopped  for 
an  aimless  dialogue  with  Jase  and  then  rode  away, 
past  the  orchard  whose  leafless  branches  gave  glimpses 
of  the  low,  sod-roofed  cabin,  with  Marthy  standing 
rather  disconsolately  on  the  rough  doorstep  watching 
her  go. 

Absently  she  let  down  the  bars  in  the  narrowest 
place  in  the  gorge  and  lifted  them  into  their  rude 
sockets  after  she  had  led  her  horse  through.  All  through 
the  years  since  Marthy  had  gone  down  that  rocky  gash 
in  search  of  Buck  and  Bawley,  no  human  being  had 
entered  or  left  the  Cove  save  through  that  narrow 
opening.  The  tingle  of  romance  which  swept  always 
the  nerves  of  the  girl  when  she  rode  that  way  fastened 
upon  her  now.  She  wished  the  Cove  belonged  to  her; 
she  thought  she  would  like  to  live  in  a  place  like  that, 
with  warlike  Indians  all  around  and  that  gorge  to 
guard  day  and  night.  She  wished  she  had  been  Marthy, 
discovering  that  place  and  taming  it,  little  by  little, 
in  solitary  achievement  the  sweeter  because  it  had 
been  hard. 

"  It 's  a  bigger  thing,"  said  Billy  Louise  aloud  to 


A  STORM  AND  A  STRANGER      27 

her  horse,  "  to  make  a  home  here  in  this  wilderness, 
than  to  write  the  greatest  poem  in  the  world  or  paint 
the  greatest  picture  or  —  anything.  I  wish  .  .  " 

Blue  was  climbing  steadily  out  of  the  gorge,  twitch- 
ing an  ear  backward  with  flattering  attention  when  his 
lady  spoke.  He  held  it  so  for  a  minute,  waiting  for 
that  sonte~.ce  to  be  finished,  perhaps;  for  he  was  wise- 
beyond  his  kind  —  was  Blue.  But  his  lady  was  star- 
ing at  the  rock  wall  they  were  passing  then,  where  the 
winds  and  the  cold  and  heat  had  carved  jutting  ledges 
into  the  crude  form  of  cabbages;  though  Billy  Louise 
preferred  to  call  them  roses.  Always  they  struck  her 
with  a  new  wonder,  as  if  she  saw  them  for  the  first 
time.  Blue  went  on,  calmly  stepping  over  this  rock 
and  around  that  as  if  it  were  the  simplest  thing  in 
the  world  to  find  sure  footing  and  carry  his  lady 
smoothly  up  that  trail.  He  threw  up  his  head  so 
suddenly  that  Billy  Louise  was  startled  out  of  her  aim- 
less dreamings,  and  pointed  nose  and  ears  toward  the 
little  creek-bottom  above,  where  Marthy  had  lighted  her 
camp-fire  long  and  long  ago. 

A  few  steps  farther,  and  Blue  stopped  short  in  the 
trail  to  look  and  listen.  Billy  Louise  could  see  the 
nervous  twitchings  of  his  muscles  under  the  skin  of 
neck  and  shoulders,  and  she  smiled  to  herself.  Nothing 
could  ever  come  upon  her  unaware  when  she  rode  alone, 
so  long  as  she  rode  Blue.  A  hunting  dog  was  not  more 
keenly  alive  to  his  surroundings. 

"  Go  on,  Blue,"  she  commanded  after  a  minute.  "  If 
it 's  a  bear  or  anything  like  that,  you  can  make  a  run 
for  it ;  if  it 's  a  wolf,  I  '11  shoot  it.  You  need  n't  stand 
here  all  night,  anyway." 


Blue  went  on,  out  from  behind  the  willow  growth 
that  hid  the  open.  He  returned  to  his  calm,  picking  a 
smooth  trail  through  the  scattered  rocks  and  tiny  wash- 
outs. It  was  the  girl's  turn  to  stare  and  speculate. 
She  did  not  know  this  horseman  who  sat  negligently 
in  the  saddle  and  looked  up  at  the  cedar-grown  bluff 
beyond,  while  his  horse  stood  knee-deep  in  the  little 
stream.  She  did  not  know  him;  and  there  were  not 
so  many  travelers  in  the  land  that  strangers  were  a 
matter  of  indifference. 

Blue  welcomed  the  horse  with  a  democratic  nicker 
and  went  forward  briskly.  And  the  rider  turned  his 
head,  eyed  the  girl  sharply  as  she  came  up,  and  nodded 
a  cursory  greeting.  His  horse  lifted  its  head  to  look, 
decided  that  it  wanted  another  swallow  or  two,  and 
lowered  its  muzzle  again  to  the  water. 

Billy  Louise  could  not  form  any  opinion  of  the 
man's  age  or  personality,  for  he  was  encased  in  a  wolf- 
skin coat  which  covered  him  completely  from  hatbrim 
to  ankles.  She  got  an  impression  of  a  thin,  dark  face, 
and  a  sharp  glance  from  eyes  that  seemed  dark  also. 
There  was  a  thin,  high  nose,  and  beyond  that  Billy 
Louise  did  not  look.  If  she  had,  the  mouth  must  cer- 
tainly have  reassured  her  somewhat. 

Blue  stepped  nonchalantly  down  into  the  stream 
Reside  the  strange  horse  and  went  across  without  stop- 
ping to  drink.  The  strange  horse  moved  on  also,  as  if 
that  were  the  natural  thing  to  do  —  which  it  was, 
•since  chance  sent  them  traveling  the  same  trail.  Billy 
Louise  set  her  teeth  together  with  the  queer  little 
vicious  click  that  had  always  been  her  habit  when  she 


A  STORM  AND  A  STRANGER       29 

felt  thwarted  and  constrained  to  yield  to  circumstances, 
and  straightened  herself  in  the  saddle. 

"  Looks  like  a  storm,"  the  fur-coated  one  observed, 
with  a  perfectly  transparent  attempt  to  lighten  the 
awkwardness. 

Billy  Louise  tilted  her  chin  upward  and  gazed  at 
the  gray  sweep  of  clouds  moving  sullenly  toward  the" 
mountains  at  her  back.  She  glanced  at  the  man  and 
caught  him  looking  intently  at  her  face. 

He  did  not  look  away  immediately,  as  he  should 
have  done,  and  Billy  Louise  felt  a  little  heat-wave  of 
embarrassment,  emphasized  by  resentment. 

"  Are  you  going  far  ?  "  he  queried  in  the  same  tone 
he  had  employed  before. 

"  Six  miles,"  she  answered  shortly,  though  she  tried 
to  be  decently  civil. 

"  I  've  about  eighteen,"  he  said.  "  Looks  like  we  '11 
both  get  caught  out  in  a  blizzard." 

Certainly,  he  had  a  pleasant  enough  voice  —  and 
after  all  it  was  not  his  fault  that  he  happened  to  be  at 
the  crossing  when  she  rode  out  of  the  gorge.  Billy 
Louise,  in  common  justice,  laid  aside  her  resentment 
and  looked  at  him  with  a  hint  of  a  smile  at  the  corners 
of  her  lips. 

"  That 's  what  we  have  to  expect  when  we  travel  in 
this  country  in  the  winter,"  she  replied.  "  Eighteen 
miles  will  take  you  long  after  dark." 

"  Well,  I  was  sort  of  figuring  on  putting  up  at  some 
ranch,  if  it  got  too  bad.  There  's  a  ranch  somewhere 
ahead,  on  the  Wolverine,  is  n't  there  ?  " 

"  Yes."  Billy  'Louise  bit  her  lip ;  but  hospitality 
is  an  unwritten  law  of  the  West  —  a  law  not  to  be 


30     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

lightly  broken.     "  That 's  where  I  live.    We  '11  be  glad 
to  have  you  stop  there,  of  course." 

The  stranger  must  have  felt  and  admired  the  un- 
conscious dignity  of  her  tone  and  words,  for  he  thanked 
her  simply  and  refrained  from  looking  too  intently  at 
her  face. 

Fine  siftings  of  snow,  like  meal  flung  down  from  a 
gigantic  sieve,  swept  into  their  faces  as  they  rode  on. 
The  man  turned  his  face  toward  her  after  a  long 
silence.  She  was  riding  with  bowed  head  and  face 
half  turned  from  him  and  the  wind  alike. 

"  You  'd  better  ride  on  ahead  and  get  in  out  of  this," 
he  said  curtly.  "  Your  horse  is  fresh.  It 's  going 
to  be  worse  and  more  of  it,  before  long;  this  cayuse  of 
mine  has  had  thirty  miles  or  so  of  rough  going." 
,  "  I  think  I  'd  better  wait  for  you,"  she  said  primly. 
"  There  are  bad  places  where  the  trail  goes  close  to 
the  bluff,  and  the  lava  rock  will  be  slippery  with  this 
snow.  And  it 's  getting  dark  so  fast  that  a  stranger 
might  go  over." 

"  If  that 's  the  case,  the  sooner  you  are  past  the  bad 
places  the  better.  I  'm  all  right.  You  drift  along." 

Billy  Louise  speculated  briefly  upon  the  note  of 
calm  authority  in  his  voice.  He  did  not  know,  evi- 
dently, that  she  was  more  accustomed  to  giving  com- 
mands than  to  obeying  them ;  her  lips  gave  a  little 
quirk  of  amusement  at  his  mistake. 

"  You  go  on.  I  don't  want  a  guide."  He  tilted 
his  head  peremptorily  toward  the  blurred  trail  ahead. 

Billy  Louise  laughed  a  little.  She  did  not  feel  in 
the  least  embarrassed  now.  "  Do  you  never  get  what 
you  don't  want  ?  "  she  asked  him  mildly.  "  I  'd  a  lot 


A  STORM  AND  A  STRANGER      31 

rather  lead  you  past  those  places  than  have  you  go 
over  the  edge,"  she  said,  "  because  nobody  could  get 
you  up,  or  even  go  down  and  bury  you  decently.  It 
would  n't  be  a  bit  nice.  It 's  much  simpler  to  keep 
you  on  tO£." 

He  said  something,  but  Billy  Louise  could  not  hear 
what  it  was ;  she  suspected  him  of  swearing.  She  rode~ 
on  in  silence. 

"  Blue  's  a  dandy  horse  on  bad  trails  and  in  the 
dark,"  she  observed  companionably  at  last.  "  He  sim- 
ply can't  lose  his  footing  or  his  way." 

"Yes?    That's  nice." 

Billy  Louise  felt  like  putting  out  her  tongue  at  him, 
for  the  cool  remoteness  of  his  tone.  It  would  serve  him 
right  to  ride  on  and  let  him  break  his  neck  over  the 
bluff  if  he  wanted  to.  She  shut  her  teeth  together  and 
turned  her  face  away  from  him. 

So,  in  silence  and  with  no  very  good  feeling  between 
them,  they  went  precariously  down  the  steep  hill  (the 
hill  up  which  Marthy  and  the  oxen  and  Jase  had  toiled 
so  laboriously,  twenty-seven  years  before)  and  across 
the  tiny  flat  to  where  the  cabin  window  winked  a  wel- 
come at  them  through  the  storm. 


CHAPTER  III 

A    BOOK,    A    BANNOCK,    AND   A    BED 

BLUE  led  the  way  straight  to  the  low,  dirt-roofed 
stable  of  logs  and  stopped  with  his  nose  against 
the  closed  door.  Billy  Louise  herself  was  deceived  by 
the  whirl  of  snow  and  would  have  missed  the  stable 
entirely  if  the  leadership  had  been  hers.  She  patted 
Blue  gratefully  on  the  shoulder  when  she  unsaddled 
him.  She  groped  with  her  fingers  for  the  wooden  peg 
in  the  wall  where  the  saddle  should  hang,  failed  to 
find  it,  and  so  laid  the  saddle  down  against  the  logs 
and  covered  it  with  the  blanket. 

"  Just  turn  your  horse  in  loose,"  she  directed  the 
man  shortly.  "  Blue  won't  fight,  and  I  think  the 
rest  of  the  horses  are  in  the  other  part.  And  come  on 
to  the  house." 

It  pleased  her  a  little  to  see  that  he  obeyed  her  with- 
out protest;  but  she  was  not  so  pleased  at  his  silence, 
and  she  led  the  way  rather  indignantly  toward  the  wink- 
ing eye  which  was  the  cabin's  window. 

At  the  sound  of  their  feet  on  the  wide  doorstep,  her 
mother  pulled  open  the  door  and  stood  fair  in  the 
light,  looking  out  with  the  anxious  look  which  had 
lived  so  long  in  her  face  that  it  had  lines  of  its  own 
chiseled  deep  in  her  forehead  and  at  the  sides  of  her 
mouth. 

"  Is  that  you,  Billy  Louise  ?    Oh,  ain't  Peter  Howling 


BOOK,  BANNOCK,  AND  BED       33 

Dog  with  you  ?  What  makes  you  so  terrible  late,  Billy 
Louise?  Come  right  in,  stranger.  I  don't  know  your 
name,  but  I  don't  need  to  know  it.  A  storm  like  this 
is  all  the  interduction  a  fellow  needs,  I  guess."  *  She 
smiled,  at  that.  She  had  a  nice  smile,  with  a  little  re- 
semblance to  Billy  Louise,  except  that  the  worried,  in- 
quiring look  never  left  her  eyes;  as  if  she  had  once 
waited  long  for  bad  news,  and  had  met  everyone  with 
anxious,  eager  questioning,  and  her  eyes  had  never 
changed  afterwards.  Billy  Louise  glanced  at  her  with 
her  calm,  measuring  look,  making  the  contrast  very 
sharp  between  the  two. 

"  What  about  Peter  ?  "  she  asked.    "  Is  n't  he  here  ?  " 

"  No,  and  he  ain't  been  since  an  hour  or  so  after  you 
left.  He  saddled  up  and  rode  off  down  the  river  —  to 
the  reservation,  I  reckon." 

"  Then  the  chores  are  n't  done,  I  suppose."  Billy 
Louise  went  over  and  took  a  lantern  down  from  its 
nail,  turning  up  the  wick  so  that  she  could  light  it  with 
the  candle.  "  Go  up  to  the  fire  and  thaw  out,"  she 
invited  the  man.  "  We  '11  have  supper  in  a  few  min- 
utes." 

Instead  he  reached  out  and  took  the  lantern  from 
her  as  soon  as  she  had  lighted  it.  "  You  go  to  the  fire 
yourself,"  he  said.  "  I  '11  do  what 's  necessary  out- 
side." 

"  Why-y  —  "  Billy  Louise,  her  fingers  still  clinging 
to  the  lantern,  looked  up  at  him.  He  was  staring  down 
at  her  with  that  intent  look  she  had  objected  to  on  the 
trail,  but  she  saw  his  mouth,  and  the  little  smile  that 
hid  just  back  of  his  lips.  She  smiled  back  without  know- 
ing it.  "  I  '11  have  to  go  along,  anyway.  There  are  cows 

A 


34     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

to  milk  and  you  could  n't  very  well  find  the  cow-stable 
alone." 

"Think  not?" 

Billy  Louise  had  been  perfectly  furious  at  that  tone, 
out  on  the  trail.  Now  that  she  could  see  his  lips  and 
their  little  twitching  to  keep  back  the  smile,  she  did 
not  mind  the  tone  at  all.  She  had  turned  away  to  get 
the  milk  pails,  and  now  she  gave  him  a  sidelong  look, 
of  the  kind  that  had  been  utterly  wasted  upon  Marthy. 
The  man  met  it  and  immediately  turned  his  atten- 
tion to  the  lantern  wick,  which  needed  nice  adjustment 
before  its  blaze  quite  pleased  him ;  he  was  not  a  Marthy 
to  receive  such  a  look  unmoved. 

Together  they  went  out  again  into  the  storm  they 
had  left  so  eagerly.  Billy  Louise  showed  him  where 
was  the  pitchfork  and  the  hay,  and  then  did  the  milking 
while  he  piled  full  the  mangers.  After  that  they  weni 
together  and  turned  the  shivering  work  horses  into  the 
stable  from  the  corral  where  they  huddled,  rumps  to 
the  storm;  and  the  man  lifted  great  forkfuls  of  hay 
and  carried  it  into  their  stalls,  while  Billy  Louise  held 
the  lantern  high  over  her  head  like  a  western  Liberty. 
They  did  not  talk  much,  except  when  there  was  need 
for  speech;  but  they  were  beginning  to  feel  a  little 
glow  of  companionship  by  the  time  they  were  ready 
to  fight  their  way  against  the  blizzard  to  the  house, 
Billy  Louise  going  before  with  the  lantern,  while  the 
man  followed  close  behind,  carrying  the  two  pails  of 
milk  that  was  already  freezing  in  little  crystals  to  the 
tin. 

"  Did  yotf  get  everything  done  ?  You  must  be  half 
froze  —  and  starved  into  the  bar^in."  Mrs.  Mac- 


BOOK,  BANNOCK,  AND  BED       35 

Donald,  as  is  the  way  of  some  women  who  know  the 
weight  of  isolation,  had  a  habit  of  talking  with  a  nerv- 
ous haste  at  times,  and  of  relapsing  into  long,  brooding 
silences  afterwards.  She  talked  now,  while  she  pulled 
a  pan  of  hot,  brown  biscuits  from  the  oven,  poured 
the  tea,  and  turned  crisp,  browned  potatoes  out  of  a 
frying-pan  into  a  deep,  white  bowl.  She  wondered, 
over  and  over,  why  Peter  Howling  Dog  had  left  and 
why  he  did  not  return.  She  said  that  was  the  way, 
when  you  depended  on  Indians  for  anything.  She  did 
wish  there  was  a  white  man  to  be  had.  She  asked  after 
Marthy  and  Jase  and  gave  Billy  Louise  no  opportunity 
to  tell  her  anything. 

Billy  Louise  glanced  often  at  the  man,  who  did  not 
look  in  the  least  as  she  had  fancied,  except  that  he 
really  did  have  a  high  nose  and  terribly  keen  eyes  with 
something  behind  the  keenness  that  baffled  her.  And 
his  mouth  was  pleasant,  especially  when  that  smile  hid 
just  behind  his  lips;  also,  she  liked  his  hair,  which 
was  thick  and  brown,  with  hints  of  red  in  it  here  and 
there,  and  a  strong  inclination  to  curl  where  it  was 
longest.  She  had  known  he  was  tall  when  he  stepped 
into  the  light  of  the  door;  now  she  saw  that  he  was 
slim  to  the  point  of  leanness,  with  square  shoulders  and 
a  nervous  quickness  when  he  moved.  His  fingers  were 
never  idle;  when  he  was  not  eating,  he  rolled  bits  of 
biscuit  into  tiny,  soggy  balls  beside  his  plate,  or  played 
a  soft  tattoo  with  his  fork. 

"  I  did  n't  quite  catch  your  name,  mister,"  her 
mother  said  finally.  "  But  take  another  biscuit,  any- 
way." 

"  Warren  is  my  name,"  returned  the  man,  with  that 


36     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

hidden  smile  because  she  had  rfever  before  given  him 
any  opportunity  to  tell  it.  "  Ward  Warren.  I  've  get 
a  claim  over  on  Mill  Creek." 

Billy  Louise  gave  a  little  gasp  and  distractedly 
poured  two  spoons  of  sugar  in  her  tea,  although  she 
hated  it  sweetened. 

I  've  got  to  tell  you  why,  even  at  the  price  of  digres- 
sion. Long  ago,  when  Billy  Louise  was  twelve  or  so, 
and  lived  largely  in  a  dream  world  of  her  own  with 
Minervy  for  her  "  pretend  "  playmate,  she  had  one  day 
chanced  upon  a  paragraph  in  a  paper  that  had  come 
from  town  wrapped  around  a  package  of  matches.  It 
was  all  about  Ward  Warren.  The  name  caught  her 
fancy,  and  the  text  of  the  paragraph  seized  upon  her 
imagination.  Until  school  filled  her  mind  with  other 
things,  she  had  built  adventures  without  end  in  which 
Ward  Warren  was  the  central  figure.  Up  the  canyon 
at  the  caves,  she  sometimes  pretended  that  Ward 
Warren  had  abducted  Minervy  and  that  she  must  lead 
the  rescue.  Sometimes,  when  she  rode  in  the  hills, 
Ward  Warren  abducted  her  and  led  her  into  strange 
places  where  she  tried  to  shiver  in  honest  dread.  Often 
and  often,  however,  Ward  Warren  was  a  fugitive  who 
came  to  her  for  help;  then  she  would  take  him  to 
Minervy's  cave  and  hide  him,  perhaps;  or  she  would 
mount  her  horse  and  lead  him,  by  devious  ways,  to 
safety,  and  upon  some  hilltop  from  which  she  could 
point  out  the  route  he  must  follow,  she  would  bid  him 
a  touching  adieu  and  beseech  him,  in  the  impossible 
language  of  some  old  romancer,  to  go  and  lead  a 
blameless  life.  Sitting  there  at  the  table  opposite  him, 
stirring  the  sugar  heedlessly  into  her  tea,  one  favorite 


BOOK,  BANNOCK,  AND  BED       37 

exhortation  returned  from  her  dream-world,  clear  as 
if  she  had  just  spoken  it  aloud.  "  Go,  and  sin  no 
more;  and  if  perchance  you  will  in  some  distant  far 
land  send  me  a  kind  thought,  that  will  be  reward 
enough  for  what  I  have  done  this  day.  Farewell, 
Ward  Warren  —  Kismet." 

The  lips  of  Billy  Louise  smiled  and  stopped  just 
short  of  laughter,  and  she  looked  across  at  Ward 
Warren  as  if  she  expected  him  to  laugh  also  at  that 
frightfully  virtuous  though  stilted  adieu.  She  found 
him  looking  straight  at  her  in  that  intent  fashion  that 
seemed  as  if  he  would  see  through  and  all  around  her 
and  her  thoughts.  He  was  not  smiling  at  all.  His 
mouth  was  pulled  into  a  certain  bitter  understanding; 
indeed,  he  looked  exactly  as  if  Billy  Louise  had  dealt 
him  a  deliberate  affront  which  he  could  neither  parry 
nor  fling  back  at  her,  but  must  endure  with  what  stoi- 
cism he  might 

Billy  Louise  blushed  guiltily,  took  an  unpremedi- 
tated swallow  of  tea,  and  grimaced  over  the  sickish 
sweetness  of  it.  She  got  up  and  emptied  the  tea  into 
the  slop  bucket,  and  loitered  over  the  refilling  of  the 
cup  so  that  when  she  returned  to  the  table  she  was  at 
least  outwardly  calm.  She  felt  another  quick,  keen 
glance  from  across  the  table,  but  she  helped  herself 
composedly  to  the  cream  and  listened  to  her  mother 
with  flattering  attention. 

"  Jase  has  got  all-gone  feelings  now,  mommie,"  she 
remarked  irrelevantly  during  a  brief  pause  and  re- 
lapsed into  silence  again.  She  knew  that  was  good  for 
at  least  five  minutes  of  straight  monologue,  with  her 
mother  in  that  talking  mood.  She  finished  her  supper 


38     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

while  Warren  listened  abstractedly  to  a  complete 
biography  of  the  Meilkes  and  learned  all  about  Marthy's 
energy  and  Jase's  shiftlessness. 

"  Ward  Warren !  "  Billy  Louise  was  saying  to  her- 
self. "  Did  you  ever  in  your  life  —  it 's  exactly  as  if 
Minervy  should  come  to  life  and  walk  in.  Ward  War- 
ren !  There  could  n't  possibly  be  two  Ward  Warrens ; 
it 's  such  an  odd  name.  Well !  " 

Then  she  went  mentally  over  that  paragraph.  She 
wished  she  did  not  remember  every  single  word  of  it, 
but  she  did.  And  she  was  afraid  to  look  at  him  after 
that.  And  she  wanted  to,  dreadfully.  She  felt  as 
though  he  belonged  to  her.  Why,  he  was  her  old  play- 
mate !  And  she  had  saved  his  life  hundreds  of  times, 
at  immense  risks  to  herself;  and  he  had  always  been 
her  devoted  slave  afterwards,  and  never  failed  to  ap- 
pear at  the  precise  moment  when  she  was  beset  by 
Indians  or  robbers  or  something,  and  in  dire  need. 
The  blood  he  had  shed  in  her  behalf!  At  that  point 
Billy  Louise  startled  herself  and  the  others  by  sud- 
denly laughing  out  loud  at  the  memory  of  one  time 
when  Ward  Warren  had  killed  enough  Indians  to  fill 
a  deep  washout  so  that  he  might  carry  her  across  to 
the  other  side! 

"  Is  there  anything  funny  about  Jase  Meilke  dying, 
Billy  Louise?"  her  mother  asked  her  in  a  perfectly 
shocked  tone. 

"  No  —  I  was  thinking  of  something  else."  She 
glanced  at  the  man  eyeing  her  so  distrustfully  from 
across  the  table  and  gurgled  again.  It  was  terribly 
silly,  but  she  simply  could  not  help  seeing  Ward  War- 
ren calmly  filling  that  washout  with  dead  Indians  so 


BOOK,  BANNOCK,  AND  BED       39 

that  he  might  carry  her  across  it  in  his  arms.  The 
more  she  tried  to  forget  that,  the  funnier  it  became. 
She  ended  by  leaving  the  table  and  retiring  precipi- 
tately to  her  own  tiny  room  in  the  lean-to  where  she 
buried  her  face  as  deep  as  it  would  go  in  a  puffy  pillow 
of  wild  duck  feathers. 

He,  poor  devil,  could  not  be  expected  to  know  just 
what  had  amused  her  so;  he  did  know  that  it  some- 
how concerned  himself,  however.  He  took  up  his  posi- 
tion —  mentally  —  behind  the  wall  of  aloofness  which 
stood  between  himself  and  an  unfriendly  world,  and 
when  Billy  Louise  came  out  later  to  help  with  the 
dishes,  he  was  sitting  absorbed  in  a  book. 

Billy  Louise  got  out  her  algebra  and  a  slate  and  be- 
gan to  ponder  the  problem  of  a  much-handicapped  goat's 
feeding-ground.  Ward  Warren  read  and  read  and 
read  and  never  looked  up  from  the  pages.  Never  in 
her  life  had  she  seen  a  man  read  as  he  read ;  hungrily, 
as  a  starved  man  eats ;  rapidly,  his  eyes  traveling  like 
a  shuttle  across  the  page;  down,  down  —  flip  a  leaf 
quickly  and  let  the  shuttle-glance  go  on.  Billy  Louise 
let  her  slate,  with  the  goat  problem  unsolved,  lie  in 
her  lap  while  she  watched  him.  When  she  finally  be- 
came curious  enough  to  decipher  the  name  of  the 
book  —  she  had  three  or  four  in  that  dull,  brown  bind- 
ing —  and  saw  that  he  was  reading  The  Ring  and  ihe 
Book,  she  felt  stunned.  She  read  Browning  just  as  she 
drank  sage  tea;  it  was  supposed  to  be  good  for  her. 
Her  English  teacher  had  given  her  that  book.  She 
never  would  have  believed  that  any  living  human  could 
read  it  as  Ward  Warren  was  reading  it  now;  avidly, 
absorbedly,  lost  to  his  surroundings  —  to  her  own  pres- 


40     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

ence,  if  you  please !  Billy  Louise  glanced  at  her  mother. 
That  lady,  having  discovered  that  her  guest's  gloves 
needed  mending,  was  working  over  them  with  pieces 
of  Indian-tanned  buckskin  and  beeswaxed  thread,  the 
picture  of  domestic  content. 

Billy  Louise  sighed.  She  shifted  her  chair.  She 
got  up  and  put  a  heavy  chunk  of  wood  on  the  fire  and 
glanced  over  her  shoulder  at  the  man  to  see  if  he  were 
going  to  take  the  hint  and  offer  to  help.  She  came 
back  and  stood  close  to  him  while  she  selected,  with 
great  deliberation,  a  book  from  the  shelf  beside  his 
head.  And  Ward  Warren,  perfectly  normal  and  not 
over  twenty-five  or  so,  pushed  his  chair  out  of  her 
way  with  a  purely  mechanical  movement,  and  read 
and  read,  and  actually  was  too  absorbed  to  feel  her  near- 
ness. And  he  really  was  reading  The  Ring  and  the 
Book;  Billy  Louise  was  rude  enough  to  look  over  his 
shoulder  to  make  sure  of  that.  She  gave  up,  then,  and 
though  she  picked  a  book  at  random  from  the  shelf, 
she  did  not  attempt  to  read  it.  She  went  to  her  room 
and  made  it  readj  for  their  guest,  and  after  that  she 
went  to  bed  in  her  mother's  room ;  and  she  thought  and 
thought  and  did  a  lot  of  wondering  about  Life  and 
about  Ward  Warren.  She  heard  him  go  to  bed,  after 
a  long  while,  and  she  wondered  if  he  had  finished  the 
book  first. 

The  next  morning  the  blizzard  raged  so  that  he 
stayed  as  a  matter  of  course.  Peter  Howling  Dog  had 
not  returned,  so  Warren  did  the  chores  and  would  not 
let  Billy  Louise  help  with  anything.  He  filled  the 
wood-box,  piled  great  chunks  of  wood  by  the  fireplace, 
and  saw  that  the  water-pails  were  full  to  the  icy  brims. 


BOOK,  BANNOCK,  AND  BED      41 

lie  talked  a  little,  and  Billy  Louise  discovered  that  he 
was  quick  to  see  a  joke,  and  that  he  simply  could  not 
be  caught  napping,  but  had  always  a  retort  ready  for 
her.  That  was  true  until  after  dinner,  when  he  picked 
up  a  book  again.  When  that  happened,  he  was  dead  to 
,  orld  bounded  by  the  coulee  walls,  and  he  did  not 
show  any  symptoms  of  consciousness  until  he  had* 
reached  the  last  page,  just  when  the  light  was  growing 
Jim  and  blurring  the  lines  so  that  he  must  hold  the 
pages  within  six  inches  of  his  eyes.  He  closed  the 
book  with  a  long  breath,  placed  it  accurately  upon  the 
.shelf  where  it  had  stood  since  Billy  Louise  came  home 
from  school,  and  picked  up  his  hat  and  gloves.  It  was 
time  to  wade  out  through  the  snow  and  feed  the  stock 
and  bring  in  more  wood. 

"  I  wish  we  could  get  him  to  stay  all  winter,  instead 
of  tliat  Peter  Howling  Dog,"  Mrs.  MacDonald  said 
anxiously,  after  he  had  gone  out.  "  I  just  know  Peter  's 
off  drinking.  I  don't  think  he  's  a  safe  man  to  Have 
around,  Billy  Louise.  I  did  n't  when  you  hired  him. 
I  have  n't  felt  easy  a  minute  with  him  on  the  place. 
I  wish  you  'd  hire  Mr.  Warren,  Billy  Louise.  He  's 
nice  and  quiet  —  " 

"  And  he  's  got  a  ranch  of  his  own.  He  does  n't 
strike  me  as  a  man  who  wants  a  job  milking  two  cows 
and  carrying  slop  to  the  pigs,  mommie." 

"  Well,  I  'd  feel  a  lot  easier  if  we  had  him  instead 
of  that  breed ;  only  we  ain't  even  got  the  breed,  half 
the  time.  This  is  the  third  time  he  's  disappeared,  in 
the  two  months  we  've  had  him.  I  really  think  you 
ought  to  speak  to  Mr.  Warren,  Billy  Louise." 

"  Speak  to  him  yourself.    You  're  the  one  that  wants 


42     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

him,"  Billy  Louise  answered  somewhat  sharply.  She 
adored  her  mother;  but  if  she  had  to  run  the  ranch, 
she  did  wish  her  mother  would  not  interfere  and  give 
advice  just  at  the  wrong  time. 

"  Well,  you  need  n't  be  cross  about  it ;  you  know 
yourself  that  Peter  can't  be  depended  on  a  minute. 
There  he  went  off  yesterday  and  never  fed  the  pigs 
their  noon  slop,  and  I  had  to  carry  it  out  myself.  And 
my  lumbago  has  bothered  me  ever  since,  just  like  it 
was  going  to  give  me  another  spell.  You  can't  be  here 
all  the  time,  Billy  Louise  —  leastways  you  ain't;  and 
Peter  —  " 

"  Oh,  good  gracious,  mommie !  I  told  you  to  hire 
the  man  if  you  want  him.  Only  Ward  Warren 
isn't  —  " 

Ward  Warren  pushed  open  the  door  and  looked  from 
one  to  the  other,  his  eyes  two  question  marks.  "  Is  n't 
—  what  ?  "  he  asked  and  shut  the  door  behind  him  with 
the  air  of  one  who  is  ready  for  anything. 

"  Is  n't  the  kind  of  man  who  wants  to  hire  out  to  do 
chores,"  Billy  Louise  finished  and  looked  at  him 
straight.  "  Are  you  ?  Mommie  wants  to  hire  you." 

"  Oh.  Well,  I  was  just  about  to  ask  for  the  job, 
anyway."  He  laughed,  and  the  distrust  left  his  eyes. 
"  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  was  going  over  to  Jim  Larson's 
to  hang  out  for  the  rest  of  the  winter  and  get  away 
from  the  lonesomeness  of  the  hills.  The  old  Turk  's  a 
pretty  good  friend  of  mine.  But  it  looks  to  me  as  if 
you  two  needed  something  around  that  looks  like  a  man 
a  heap  more  than  Jim  does.  I  know  Peter  Howling 
Dog  to  a  f are-you-well ;  you  '11  be  all  to  the  good  if  he 
forgets  to  come  back.  So  if  you  '11  stake  me  to  a  meal 


BOOK,  BANNOCK,  AND  BED       43 

now  and  then,  and  a  place  to  sleep,  I  '11  be  glad  to  see 
you  through  the  winter  —  or  until  you  get  some  white 
man  to  take  my  place."  He  took  up  the  two  water- 
pails  and  waited,  glancing  from  one  to  the  other  with 
that  repressed  smile  which  Billy  Louise  was  beginning 
to  look  for  in  his  face. 

Now  that  matters  had  approached  the  point  of  de- 
cision, her  mother  stood  looking  at  her  helplessly, 
waiting  for  her  to  speak.  Billy  Louise  drew  herself 
up  primly  and  ended  by  contradicting  the  action.  She 
gave  him  the  sidelong  glance  which  he  was  least  pre- 
pared to  withstand  —  though  in  justice  to  Billy  Louise, 
she  was  absolutely  unconscious  of  its  general  effective- 
ness —  and  twisted  her  lips  whimsically. 

"  We  '11  stake  you  to  a  book,  a  bannock,  and  a  bed 
if  you  want  to  stay,  Mr.  Warren,"  she  said  quite  soberly. 
"  Also  to  a  pitchfork  and  an  axe,  if  you  like,  and 
regular  wages." 

His  eyes  went  to  her  and  steadied  there  with  the 
intent  expression  in  them.  "  Thanks.  Cut  out  the 
wages,  and  I  '11  take  the  offer  just  as  it  stands,"  he 
told  her  and  pulled  his  hat  farther  down  on  his  head. 
"  She 's  going  to  be  one  stormy  night,  lay-dees,"  he 
added  in  quite  another  tone,  on  his  way  to  the  door. 
"  Five  o'clock  by  the  town  clock,  and  al-11  's  well !  " 
This  last  in  still  another  tone,  as  he  pushed  out  against 
the  swooping  wind  and  pulled  the  door  shut  with  a 
slam.  They  heard  him  whistling  a  shrill,  rollicking 
air  on  his  way  to  the  creek ;  at  least,  it  sounded  rollick- 
ing, the  way  he  whistled  it. 

"  That 's  The  Old  Chisholm  Trail  he  's  whistling," 
Billy  Louise  observed  under  her  breath,  smiling  remi- 


44     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

niscently.  "  The  very  song  I  used  to  pretend  he  always 
sang  when  he  came  down  the  canyon  to  rescue  Minervy 
and  me !  But  of  course  —  I  knew  all  the  time  he  's  a 
cowboy;  it  said  so  —  " 

The  whistling  broke  and  he  began  to  sing  at  the  top 
of  a  clear,  strong-lunged  voice,  that  old,  old  trail  song 
beloved  of  punchers  the  West  over : 

"  Oh,  it 's  cloudy  in  the  West  and  a-lookin'  like  rain, 
And  my  damned  old  slicker  's  in  the  wagon  again, 
Coma  ti  yi  youpy,  youpy-a,  youpy-a, 
Coma  ti  yi  youpy,  youpy-a!  " 

"  What  did  you  say,  Billy  Louise  ?  I  'm  sure  it 's  a 
comfort  to  have  him  here,  and  you  see  he  was  glad  and 
willing  —  " 

But  Billy  Louise  was  holding  the  door  open  half  an 
inch,  listening  and  slipping  back  into  the  child-world 
wherein  Ward  Warren  came  singing  down  the  canyon 
to  rescue  her  and  Minervy.  The  words  came  gustily 
from  the  creek  down  the  slope: 

"  No  chaps,  no  slicker,  and  a-pourin'  down  rain, 
And  I  swear  by  the  Lord  I  '11  never  night-herd  again, 
Coma  ti  yi  youpy,  youpy-a,  youpy-a, 
Coma  ti  yi  youpy,  youpy-a! 

"  Feet  in  the  stirrups  and  seat  in  the  saddle, 
I  hung  and  rattled  with  them  long-horn  cattle, 
Coma  ti  yi  —  " 

"  Do  shut  the  door,  Billy  Louise !  What  you  want  to 
stand  there  like  that  for  ?  And  the  wind  freezing  every- 
thing inside !  I  can  feel  a  terrible  draught  on  my  feet 
and  ankles,  and  you  know  what  that  leads  to." 

So  Billy  Louise  closed  the  door  and  laid  another 


BOOK,  BANNOCK,  AND  BED      45 

alder  root  on  the  coals  in  the  fireplace,  the  while  her 
mind  was  given  over  to  dreamy  speculations,  and  the 
words  of  that  old  trail  song  ran  on  in  her  mejnory 
though  she  could  110  longer  hear  him  singing.  Her 
mother  talked  on  about  Peter  and  the  storm  and  this 
man  who  had  ridden  straight  from  the  land  of  day- 
dreams to  her  door,  but  the  girl  was  not  listening. 

"  Now  ain't  you  relieved,  yourself,  that  he  's  going 
to  stay?" 

Billy  Louise,  kneeling  on  the  hearth  and  staring 
abstractedly  into  the  fire,  came  back  with  a  jerk  to 
reality.  The  little  smile  that  had  been  in  her  eyes 
and  on  her  lips  fled  back  with  the  dreams  that  had 
brought  it.  She  gave  her  shoulders  an  impatient 
twitch  and  got  up. 

"  Oh  —  I  guess  he  '11  be  more  agreeable  to  have 
around  than  Peter,"  she  admitted  taciturnly;  which 
was  as  close  to  her  real  opinion  of  the  man  as  a  mere 
mother  might  hope  to  come. 


CHAPTER  IV 


WARD  WARREN  sat  before  the  fireplace  with 
a  cigarette  long  gone  cold  in  his  fingers  and 
stared  into  the  blaze  until  the  blaze  died  to  bright- 
glowing  coals,  and  the  coals  filmed  and  shrank  down 
into  the  bed  of  ashes.  Billy  Louise  had  spoken  to  him 
twice,  and  he  had  not  answered.  She  had  swept  all 
around  him,  and  he  had  shifted  his  feet  out  of  her 
way,  and  later  his  chair,  like  a  man  in  his  sleep  who 
turns  from  an  unaccustomed  light  or  draws  the  covers 
over  shoulders  growing  chilled,  without  any  real  con- 
sciousness of  what  he  does.  Billy  Louise  put  away  the 
broom,  hung  the  dustpan  on  its  nail  behind  the  door,  and 
stood  looking  at  Ward  curiously  and  with  some  resent- 
ment; this  was  not  the  first  time  he  had  gone  into  fits 
of  abstraction  as  deep  as  his  absorption  in  the  books 
lie  read  so  hungrily.  He  had  been  at  the  Wolverine  a 
month,  and  they  were  pretty  well  acquainted  by  now 
and  inclined  to  friendliness  when  Ward  threw  off  his 
moodiness  and  his  air  of  holding  himself  ready  for 
some  affront  which  he  seemed  to  expect.  But  for  all 
that  the  distrust  never  quite  left  his  eyes,  and  there 
were  times  like  this  when  he  was  absolutely  oblivious 
to  her  presence. 

Billy  Louise  suddenly  lost  patience.     She  stooped 
and  picked  up  a  bit  of  bark  the  size  of  her  thumb  and 


"  USED  FOR  A  FOOTBALL  "       47 

threw  it  at  Ward,  with  a  little,  vexed  twist  of  her  lips. 
She  had  a  fine  accuracy  of  aim  —  she  hit  him  on  the 
nape  of  the  neck,  just  where  his  hair  came  down  in  a 
queer  little  curly  "  cow-lick  "  in  the  middle. 

Ward  jumped  up  and  whirled,  and  when  he  faced 
Billy  Louise  he  had  a  gun  gripped  in  the  fingers  that 
had  held  the  cigarette  so  loosely.  In  his  eyes  was  the 
glare  which  a  man  turns  upon  his  deadliest  enemy,  per- 
haps, but  seldom  indeed  upon  a  girl.  So  they  faced 
each  other,  while  Billy  Louise  backed  against  the  wall 
and  took  two  sharp  breaths. 

Ward  relaxed;  a  shamed  flush  reddened  his  whole 
face.  He  shoved  the  gun  back  inside  the  belt  of  his 
trousers  —  Billy  Louise  had  never  dreamed  that  he 
carried  any  weapon  save  his  haughty  aloofness  of  man- 
ner—  and  with  a  little  snort  of  self-disgust  dropped 
back  into  the  chair.N  He  did  not  stare  again  into  the 
fire,  however;  he  folded  his  arms  upon  the  high  chair- 
back  and  laid  his  face  down  upon  them,  like  a  woman 
who  is  hurt  to  the  point  of  tears  and  yet  will  not  weep. 
His  booted  feet  were  thrust  toward  the  dying  coals,  his 
whole  attitude  spoke  of  utter  desolation  —  of  a  loneli- 
ness beyond  words. 

Billy  Louise  set  her  teeth  hard  together  to  keep  back 
the  tears  of  sympathy.  Suffering  of  any  sort  always 
wrung  the  tender  heart  of  her.  But  suffering  like  this 
—  never  in  her  life  had  she  seen  anything  like  it.  She 
had  seen  her  father  angry,  discouraged,  morose.  She 
had  seen  men  fight.  She  had  soothed  her  mother's 
grief,  which  expressed  itself  in  tears  and  lamentations. 
But  this  hidden  hurt,  this  stoical  suffering  that  she  had 
seen  often  and  often  in  Ward's  eyes  and  that  sent  his 


48     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

head  down  now  upon  his  arms  —  She  went  to  him  and 
laid  her  two  hands  on  his  shoulders  without  even  think- 
ing that  this  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  touched 
him. 

"  Don't !  "  she  said,  half  whispering  so  that  she  would 
not  waken  her  mother,  in  bed  with  an  attack  of  lum- 
bago. "I  —  I  did  n't  know.  Ward,  listen  to  me ! 
Whatever  it  is,  can't  you  tell  me?  You  —  I'm  your 
friend.  Don't  look  as  if  you  —  you  had  n't  a  friend 
on  earth !  " 

Still  he  did  not  move  or  give  any  sign  that  he  heard. 
Billy  Louise  had  no  thought  of  coquetry.  Her  heart 
ached  with  pity  and  a  longing  to  help  him.  She  slid 
one  hand  up  and  pinched  his  ear,  just  as  she  would 
playfully  tweak  the  ear  of  a  child. 

"  Ward,  you  must  n't.  I  Ve  seen  you  think  and 
think  and  look  as  if  you  had  n't  a  friend  on  earth. 
You  must  n't.  I  suppose  you  Ve  got  loffc  of  friends 
who  'd  stand  by  you  through  anything.  Anyway, 
you  Ve  got  me,  and  —  I  understand  all  about  it." 
She  whispered  those  last  words,  and  her  heart  thumped 
heavily  with  trepidation  after  she  had  spoken. 

Ward  raised  his  head,  caught  one  of  her  hands  and 
held  it  fast  while  he  looked  deep  into  her  eyes.  He 
was  searching,  questioning,  measuring,  and  he  was 
doing  it  without  uttering  a  word.  The  plummet  dropped 
straight  into  the  clear,  sweet  depths  of  her  soul.  If  it 
did  not  reach  the  bottom,  he  was  satisfied  with  the 
soundings  he  took.  He  drew  a  deep  breath  and  gave 
her  hand  a  little  squeeze  and  let  it  go. 

"  Did  I  scare  you  ?  I  'm  sorry,"  he  said,  speaking 
in  a  hushed  tone  because  of  the  woman  in  the  next 


"  USED  FOR  A  FOOTBALL  "        49 

room.  "  I  was  thinking  about  a  man  I  may  meet  some 
day ;  and  if  I  do  meet  him,  the  chances  are  I  '11  kill 
him.  I  —  did  n't  —  I  forgot  where  I  was  —  "  He 
threw  out  a  hand  in  a  gesture  that  amply  completed 
explanation  and  apology  and  fumbled  in  his  pocket  for 
tobacco  and  papers.  Abstractedly  he  began  the  making 
of  a  cigarette. 

Billy  Louise  put  wood  on  the  fire,  pulled  up  a  squar2, 
calico-padded  stool,  and  sat  down.  She  waited,  and 
she  had  the  wisdom  to  wait  in  complete  silence. 

Ward  leaned  forward  with  a  twig  in  his  hand,  got 
it  ablaze,  and  lighted  his  cigarette.  He  did  not  look 
at  Billy  Louise  until  he  had  taken  a  whiff  or  two. 
Then  he  stared  at  her  for  a  full  minute,  and  ended  by 
flipping  the  charred  twig  playfully  into  her  lap,  and 
laughing  a  little  because  she  jumped. 

"  What  made  you  catch  your  breath  when  I  told  my 
name  that  night  I  came  (  "  he  asked  quizzically,  but 
with  a  tensity  behind  the  lightness  of  his  tone  and  be- 
hind the  little  smile  in  his  eyes  as  well.  "  Where  had 
you  ever  heard  of  me  before  ? " 

Billy  Louise  gasped  again,  sent  a  lightning-thought 
into  the  future,  and  answered  more  casually  than  she 
had  hoped  she  could. 

;<  When  I  was  a  kid  I  ran  across  the  name  —  some- 
where —  and  I  used  it  to  play  with  —  " 

"  Yes  ? " 

'*  You  know  —  I  was  always  making  believe  differ- 
ent things.  I  never  had  anyone  to  play  with  in  my 
life,  so  I  had  a  pretend-girl,  named  Minervy.  And  I 
had  you.  I  used  to  have  you  rescue  us  from  Indians 
and  things;  but  mostly  you  were  a  road-agent  or  a 


50     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

robber,  and  when  you  were  n't  holding  me  or  Minervy 
for  ransom,  I  was  generally  leading  you  over  some  most 
ungodly  trails,  saving  you  from  posses  and  things.  I 
used,"  said  Billy  Louise,  forcing  a  laugh,  "  to  have 
some  wild  old  times  with  you,  believe  me!  So  when 
you  told  your  name,  why  —  it  was  just  like  —  you 
know ;  it  was  exactly  like  having  a  doll  come  to  life ! " 

He  eyed  her  fixedly  until  she  tingled  with  nervous- 
ness. 

"  Yes  —  and  what  about  —  understanding  all  about 
it  2  Do  you  ?  "  He  drew  in  his  under  lip,  let  it  go, 
and  drew  it  again  between  his  teeth,  while  he  frowned 
at  her  thoughtfully.  "  Do  you  understand  all  about 
it  ?  "  he  insisted,  leaning  toward  her  and  never  once 
taking  that  boring  gaze  from  her  face. 

"I  —  well,  I  —  do  —  some  of  it  anyway."  Billy 
Louise  lifted  a  hand  spasmodically  to  her  throat. 
This  was  digging  deeper  into  the  agonies  of  life  than 
she  had  ever  gone  before.  "  What  was  in  the  paper," 
she  whispered  later,  as  if  his  eyes  were  drawing  it 
from  her  by  force. 

"  What  was  that  ?     What  did  it  say  ?  " 

"I  —  I  —  what  difference  does  it  make,  what  it 
said  ?  "  Billy  Louise  turned  imploring  eyes  upon  him. 
Her  breath  was  coming  fast  and  uneven.  "  It  does  n't 
matter  —  to  me  —  in  the  least.  It  —  did  n't  say  much. 
I  —  can't  tell  exactly  —  "  She  was  growing  white 
around  the  mouth.  The  horror  of  being  compelled  to 
say,  out  loud  —  and  to  him! 

"  I  did  n't  know  there  was  a  woman  in  the  world 
like  you,"  Ward  said  irrelevantly  and  looked  into  the 
fire.  "  I  thought  women  were  just  soft  things  a  man 


"  USED  FOR  A  FOOTBALL  "       51 

had  to  take  care  of  and  carry  along  through  life,  a 
dead  weight  when  they  were  n't  worse.  I  never  knew 
a  woman  could  be  a  friend  —  the  kind  of  friend  a  man 
can  be."  He  threw  his  cigarette  into  the  fire  and 
watched  the  paper  shrivel  swiftly  and  the  tobacco  turn 
into  a  thin/  blue  smoke-spiral. 

"  Life  's  a  queer  thing,"  he  said,  taking  a  different 
angle.  "  I  started  out  with  big  notions  about  the 
things  I'd  do.  Maybe  I  started  wrong,  but  for  a  kid 
with  nobody  to  point  the  trail  for  him,  I  don't  think 
I  did  so  worse  —  till  old  Dame  Fortune  spotted  me  in 
the  crowd  and  proceeded  to  use  me  for  a  football."  He 
leaned  an  elbow  on  one  knee  and  stared  hard  at  a  burn- 
ing brand  that  was  getting  ready  to  fall  and  send  up  a 
stream  of  sparks.  Then  he  turned  his  head  quite  unex- 
pectedly and  looked  at  Billy  Louise.  "  What  was  it 
you  read  ?  "  he  asked  abruptly. 

"I  —  don't  like  to  —  say  it,"  she  whispered  un- 
steadily. 

"  Well,  you  need  n't.  I  '11  say  it  for  you,  when  I 
come  to  it.  There  7s  a  lot  before  that." 

Ward  Warren  had  never  before  opened  his  soul  to 
any  human;  not  completely.  Perhaps,  sitting  that 
evening  in  the  deepening  dusk,  with  the  firelight  light- 
ing swiftly  the  brooding  face  of  the  girl  and  afterward 
veiling  it  softly  with  shadows,  perhaps  even  then  there 
were  desolate  places  in  his  life  which  his  words  did 
not  touch.  But  so  much  as  a  man  may  put  into  words, 
Ward  told  her ;  more,  a  great  deal  more,  than  he  would 
ever  tell  to  any  other  woman  as  long  as  he  lived.  More 
perhaps  than  he  would  ever  tell  to  any  man.  And  in 
it  all  there  was  no  word  of  love.  It  was  of  what  lay 


52     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

behind  him  that  he  talked.  The  low,  even  murmur 
of  his  voice  was  broken  by  long,  brooding  silences,  when 
the  two  stared  into  the  shifting  flames  and  saw  there  the 
things  his  words  had  conjured.  Sometimes  the  eyes  of 
Billy  Louise  were  soft  with  sympathy.  Sometimes 
they  were  wide  and  held  the  light  of  horror.  Once, 
with  a  small  sob  that  had  no  tears,  she  reached  out  and 
clutched  his  arm.  "  Oh,  don't !  "  she  gasped.  "  Don't 
go  on  telling  —  I  —  I  can't  bear  to  listen  to  that !  " 

"  It  is  n't  nice  for  a  woman  to  listen  to,  I  guess/* 
Ward  gritted.     "  I  know  it  was  hell  to  stand,  but  — 
He  was  silent  so  long  after  that,  and  his  eyes  grew  so 
intent  and  so  somber  while  he  stared,  that  Billy  Louise 
pulled  at  his  sleeve  to  recall  him. 

"  Skip  that  part  and  tell  me  —  " 

Ward  took  up  the  story  and  told  her  much;  more 
than  she  had  ever  dreamed  could  be.  I  can't  repeat 
any  of  it;  what  he  said  was  for  Billy  Louise  to  know 
and  none  other. 

It  was  late  when  she  finally  rose  from  the  stool 
and  lighted  the  lamp  because  her  mother  woke  and 
called  to  her.  Ward  went  out  to  turn  the  horses  into 
the  stable  and  fasten  the  door.  He  should  have  shel- 
tered them  two  hours  before.  Billy  Louise  should  long 
ago  have  made  tea  and  toast  for  her  mother,  for  that 
matter.  But  when  life's  big,  bitter  problems  confront 
one,  little  things  are  usually  forgotten. 

They  came  back  to  everyday  realities,  though  the 
spell  which  Ward's  impulsive  unburdening  had  woven 
still  wrapped  them  in  that  close  companionship  of  com- 
plete understanding.  They  played  checkers  for  an 
hour  or  so  and  then  went  to  bed.  Billy  Louise  lay  in 


"  USED  FOR  A  FOOTBALL  "       53 

a  waking  nightmare  because  of  all  the  hard  things 
she  had  heard  about  life.  Ward  stared  up  into  the 
dark  and  could  not  lose  himself  in  sleep,  because  he  had 
opened  the  door  upon  the  evil  places  in  his  memory 
and  let  out  all  the  trooping  devils  that  lived  there. 

After  that,  though  there  was  never  any  word  of  love 
between  them,  Billy  Louise,  with  the  sure  instinct  of 
a  woman  innately  pure,  watched  unobtrusively  for 
signs  of  those  fits  of  bitter  brooding;  watched  and  drove 
them  off  with  various  weapons  of  her  own.  Sometimes 
she  cheerfully  declared  that  she  was  bored  to  death,  and 
was  n't  Ward  just  dying  for  a  game  of  "  rob  casino  "  ? 
Sometimes  she  simply  teased  him  into  retaliation.  Fre- 
quently she  insisted  that  he  repeat  the  things  he  had 
learned  by  heart,  of  poetry  or  humorous  prose,  for  his 
memory  was  almost  uncanny  in  its  tenacity.  She  dis- 
covered quite  early,  and  by  accident,  that  she  had  only 
to  shake  her  head  in  a  certain  way  and  declaim :  "  Ali, 
Tarn,  noo,  Tarn,  thou  'It  get  thy  faring  —  In  hell  they  '11 
roast  thee  like  a  herring,"  —  she  had  only  to  say  that 
to  make  him  laugh  and  repeat  the  whole  of  Tarn 
O'Shanter's  Ride  with  a  perfectly  devilish  zest  for 
poor  Tarn's  misfortunes,  and  an  accent  which  made  her 
suspect  who  were  his  ancestors. 

Billy  Louise  meant  only  to  wean  him  from  his  bitter- 
ness against  Life,  and  to  convince  him,  by  a  somewhat 
roundabout  method  since  at  heart  she  was  scared  to 
death  of  his  aloofness,  that  he  was  not  "  old  lady  For- 
tune's football "  as  he  sometimes  pessimistically  de- 
clared. At  thirteen  she  had  mixed  him  with  her 
dreams  and  led  him  by  difficult  trails  to  safety  from 
the  imaginary  enemies  that  pursued  him.  At  nineteen 


54     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

she  unconsciously  mixed  him  with  her  life  and  led 
nim  —  more  surely  than  in  her  dreams,  and  by  a  far 
more  difficult  trail,  had  she  only  known  it  —  safe  away 
from  the  devils  of  memory  and  a  distrust  of  life  that 
pursued  him  more  relentlessly  than  any  human  foe. 

She  only  meant  to  wean  him  from  pessimism  and 
rebuild  within  him  a  healthy  appetite  for  life.  If  she 
did  more  than  that,  she  did  not  know  it  then ;  for  Ward 
Warren  had  learned,  along  with  other  hard  lessons,  the 
art  of  keeping  his  thoughts  locked  safely  away,  and  of 
using  his  face  as  a  mask  to  hide  even  the  doorway  to 
his  real  self.  Only  his  eyes  turned  traitors  sometimes 
when  he  looked  at  Billy  Louise;  though  she,  being  a 
somewhat  self-centered  young  person,  never  quite  read 
what  they  tried  to  betray. 

She  took  him  up  the  canyon  and  showed  him  her 
cave  and  Minervy's.  And  she  had  the  doubtful  satis- 
faction of  seeing  him  doubled  over  the  saddle-horn  in  a 
paroxysm  of  laughter  when  she  led  him  to  the  historical 
washout  and  recounted  the  feat  of  the  dead  Indians 
with  which  he  had  made  a  safe  passing  for  her. 

"  Well,  they  did  it  in  history,"  she  defended  at  last, 
her  cheeks  redder  than  was  perfectly  normal.  "  I  read 
about  it  —  at  Waterloo  when  the  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton —  was  n't  it  ?  You  need  n't  laugh  as  if  it  could  n't, 
be  done.  It  was  that  sunken-road  business  put  it  into 
my  head  in  the  first  place;  and  I  think  you  ought  to 
feel  flattered." 

"  I  do,"  gasped  Ward,  wiping  his  eyes.  "  Say,  I  was 
some  bandit,  was  n't  I,  William  Louisa  ?  " 

Billy  Louise  looked  at  him  sidewise.  "  No,  yon 
weren't  any  bandit  at  all  —  then.  You  were  a  kind 


"  USED  FOR  A  FOOTBALL  "        55 

scout,  that  time.  I  was  here,  all  surrounded  by  In- 
dians and  saying  the  Lord's  prayer  with  my  hair  all 
down  my  back  like  mommie's  Rock  of  Ages  picture  — 
will  you  shut  up  laughing  ?  —  and  you  came  riding  up 
that  draw  over  there  on  a  big,  black  horse  named  Sul- 
tan (You  need  n't  snort ;  I  still  think  Sultan  's  a  dandy 
name  for  a  horse!).  And  you  hollered  to  me  to  get 
behind  that  rock,  over  there.  And  I  quit  at  *  Forgive 
us  our  debts  '  —  daddy  always  had  so  many !  —  and 
hiked  for  the  rock.  And  you  commenced  shooting  — 
Oh,  I  'm  not  going  to  tell  you  a  single  other  pretend !  " 
She  sulked  then,  which  was  quite  as  diverting  as  the 
most  hair-raising  "  pretend  "  she  had  ever  told  him  and 
held  Ward's  attention  unflaggingly  until  they  were 
half  way  home. 

"  Sing  the  Chisholm  Trail/'  she  commanded,  when 
her  temper  was  sunshiny  again.  This  had  been  a  par- 
ticularly moody  day  for  Ward,  and  Billy  Louise  felt 
that  extra  effort  was  required  to  rout  the  memory-devils. 
"  Daddy  knew  a  little  of  it,  and  old  Jake  Summers 
used  to  sing  more,  but  I  never  did  hear  it  all." 

"  Ladies  don't,  as  a  general  thing,"  Ward  replied, 
biting  his  lips. 

''Why?  I  know  there's  about  forty  verses,  and 
some  of  them  are  kind  of  sweary  ones;  but  go  ahead 
and  sing  it.  I  don't  mind  damn  now  and  then." 

This  sublime  innocence  was  also  diverting,  even  to  a 
man  haunted  by  the  devils  of  memory.  Ward's  lips 
twitched,  and  a  flush  warmed  his  cheek-bones  at  the 
mere  thought  of  singing  it  all  in  her  presence.  "  I  '11 
sing  all  of  Sam  Bass,  if  you  like,"  he  temporized,  with 
a  grin. 


56     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

"  Oh,  I  hate  Sam  Bass!  We  had  a  Dutchman  work- 
ing for  us  when  I  was  just  a  kid,  and  he  was  forever 
bawling  out:  '  Sa-am  Pass  was  porn  in  Injiaay,  it  was-s 
hiss  natiff  ho-o-ome ! ' 

Billy  Louise  was  a  pretty  good  mimic.  She  had 
Ward  doubled  over  the  horn  again  and  shouting  so 
that  the  canyon  walls  roared  echoes  for  three  full  min- 
utes. "  I  've  always  wanted  to  hear  the  Chisholm  Trail. 
I  know  how  it  was  sung  from  Mexico  north  on  the  old 
cattle-trails,  and  how  every  ambitious  puncher  who  had 
enough  imagination  and  could  make  a  rhyme,  added  a 
verse  or  so,  till  it 's  really  a  —  a  classic  of  the  cow- 
camps." 

"  Ye-es — it  sure  is  all  that."  Ward  eyed  her  fur- 
tively. 

"  And  with  that  memory  of  yours,  I  simply  know 
that  you  can  sing  every  single  word  of  it,"  Billy  Louise 
went  on  pitilessly  —  and  innocently.  "  You  're  a  cow- 
puncher  yourself,  and  you  must  have  heard  it  all,  at 
one  time  and  another;  and  I  don't  believe  you  ever 
forgot  a  thing  in  your  life."  She  caught  her  breath 
there,  conscience-stricken,  and  added  hastily  and  im- 
periously, "So  go  on  —  begin  at  the  beginning  and 
sing  it  all.  I  '11  keep  tab  and  see  if  you  sing  forty 
verses."  And  she  prompted  coaxingly: 

"  Come  along,  boys,  and  listen  to  my  tale, 
I  '11  tell  you  of  my  troubles  on  the  old  Chisholm  trail, 
Coma  ti  yi  —  " 

and  nodded  her  head  approvingly  when  Ward  took  up 
the  ditty  where  she  left  off  and  sang  it  with  the  rol- 
licking enthusiasm  which  only  a  man  who  has  soothed 


"  USED  FOR  A  FOOTBALL  "       57 

restless  cattle  on  a  stormy  night  can  put  into  the  dog- 
gerel. 

lie  did  not  sing  the  whole  forty  verses,  for  good  and 
sufficient  reasons  best  known  to  punchers  themselves. 
But,  with  swift,  shamed  skipping  of  certain  lines  and 
some  hasty  revisions,  he  actually  did  sing  thirty,  and 
Billy  Louise  was  so  engrossed  that  she  forgot  to  count- 
them  and  never  suspected  the  omissions;  for  some  of 
the  verses  were  quite  "  sweary  "  enough  to  account  for 
his  hesitation. 

The  singing  of  those  thirty  verses  brought  a  remi- 
niscent mood  upon  the  singer.  For  the  rest  of  the  way, 
which  they  rode  at  a  walk,  Ward  sat  very  much  upon 
one  side  of  the  saddle,  with  his  body  facing  Billy  Louise 
and  his  foot  dangling  free  of  the  stirrup,  and  told  her 
tales  of  trail-herds,  and  the  cow-camps,  and  of  funny 
things  that  had  happened  on  the  range.  His  "I  re- 
member one  time  "  opened  the  door  to  a  more  fascinat- 
ing world  than  Billy  Louise's  dream-world,  because  this 
other  world  was  real. 

So,  from  pure  accident,  she  hit  upon  the  most  effec- 
tive of  all  weapons  with  which  to  fight  the  nfemory- 
devils.  She  led  Ward  to  remembering  the  pleasanter 
parts  of  his  past  life  and  to  telling  her  of  them. 

When  spring  came  at  last,  and  he  rode  regretfully 
back  to  his  claim  on  Mill  Creek,  he  was  not  at  all  the 
morose  Ward  Warren  who  had  ridden  down  to  the 
Wolverine  that  stormy  night  in  January.  The  distrust 
had  left  his  eyes,  and  that  guarded  remoteness  was 
gone  from  his  manner.  He  thought  and  he  planned  as 
other  men  thought  and  planned,  and  looked  into  the 
future  eagerly,  and  dreamed  dreams  of  his  own ;  dreams 


58     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE. 

that  brought  the  hidden  smile  often  to  his  lips  and 
his  eyes. 

Still,  the  thing  those  dreams  were  built  upon  was 
yet  locked  tight  in  his  heart,  and  not  even  Billy  Louise, 
whose  instinct  was  so  keen  and  so  sure  in  all  things  else, 
knew  anything  of  them  or  of  the  bright-hued  hope  they 
were  built  upon.  Fortune's  football  was  making  ready 
to  fight  desperately  to  become  captain  of  the  game,  that 
he  might  be  something  more  to  Billy  Louise. 


CHAPTER  V 

MAETHY  BURIES  HER  DEAD  AND  GREETS  HER  NEPHEW  - 

JASE  did  not  move  or  give  his  customary,  querulous 
grunt  when  Marthy  nudged  him  at  daylight,  one 
morning  in  mid-April.  Marthy  gave  another  poke  with 
her  elbow  and  lay  still,  numbed  by  a  sudden  dread. 
She  moved  cautiously  out  of  the  bed  and  half  across 
the  cramped  room  before  she  turned  her  head  toward 
him.  Then  she  stood  still  and  looked  and  looked,  her 
hard  face  growing  each  moment  more  pinched  and 
stony  and  gray. 

<£ase  had  died  while  the  coyotes  were  yapping  their 
dawn-song  up  on  the  rim  of  the  Cove.  He  lay  rigid 
under  the  coarse,  gray  blanket,  the  flesh  of  his  face 
drawn  close  to  the  bones,  his  skimpy,  gray  beard  tilted 
upward. 

Marthy 's  jaw  set  into  a  harsher  outline  than  ever. 
She  dressed  with  slow,  heavy  movements  and  went  out 
and  fed  the  stock.  In  stolid  calm  she  did  the  milking 
and  turned  out  the  cows  into  the  pasture.  She  gath- 
ered an  apron  full  of  chips  and  started  a  fire,  just  as 
she  had  done  every  morning  for  twenty-nine  years,  and 
she  put  the  coffee-pot  on  the  greasy  stove  and  boiled 
the  brew  of  yesterday  —  which  was  also  her  habit. 

She  sat  for  some  time  with  her- head  leaning  upon 
her  grimj  hand  and  stared  unseeingly  out  upon  a 


60     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

peach-tree  in  full  bloom,  and  at  a  pair  of  busy  robins 
who  had  chosen  a  convenient  crotch  for  their  nest. 
Finally  she  rose  stiffly,  as  if  she  had  grown  older 
within  the  last  hour,  and  went  outside  to  the  place 
where  she  had  been  mending  the  irrigating  ditch  the 
day  before;  she  knocked  the  wet  sand  off  the  shovel 
she  had  left  sticking  in  the  soft  bank  and  went  out  of 
the  yard  and  up  the  slope  toward  the  rock  wall. 

On  a  tiny,  level  place  above  the  main  ditch  and  just 
under  the  wall,  Marthy  began  to  dig,  setting  her  broad, 
flat  foot  uncompromisingly  upon  the  shoulder  of  the 
shovel  and  sending  it  deep  into  the  yellow  soil.  She 
worked  slowly  and  methodically  and  steadily,  just  as 
she  did  everything  else.  When  she  had  dug  down  as 
deep  as  she  could  and  still  manage  to  climb  out,  and 
had  the  hole  wide  enough  and  long  enough,  she  got 
awkwardly  to  the  grassy  surface  and  sat  for  a  long  while 
upon  a  rock,  staring  dumbly  at  the  gaunt,  brown  hills 
across  the  river. 

She  returned  to  the  cabin  at  last,  and  with  the 
manner  of  one  who  dreads  doing  what  must  be  done, 
she  went  in  where  Jase  lay  stiff  and  cold  under  the 
blankets. 

Early  that  afternoon,  Marthy  went  staggering  up  the 
slope,  wheeling  Jase's  body  before  her  on  the  creaky, 
Lome-made  wheelbarrow.  In  the  same  harsh,  primitive 
manner  in  which  they  both  had  lived,  Marthy  buried 
her  dead.  And  though  in  life  she  had  given  him  few 
words  save  in  command  or  upbraiding,  with  never  a 
hint  of  love  to  sweeten  the  days  for  either,  yet  she 
went  whimpering  away  from  that  grave.  She  broke  off 
three  branches  of  precious  peach  blossoms  and  carried 


MARTHY  BURIES  HER  DEAD     61 

them  up  the  slope.  She  stuck  them  upright  in  the 
lumpy  soil  over  Jase's  head  and  stood  there  a  long 
while  with  tear-streaked  face,  staring  down  at  the  grave 
and  at  the  nodding  pink  blossoms. 

tf 

Billy  Louise  rode  singing  down  the  rocky  trail 
through  the  deep,  narrow  gorge,  to  where  the  hawthorn^ 
and  choke-cherries  hid  the  opening  to  the  cove.  Just 
on  the  edge  of  the  thickest  fringe,  she  pulled  up  and 
broke  off  tender  branches  of  cherry  bloom,  then  went 
on,  still  singing  softly  to  herself  because  the  air  was 
sweet  with  spring  odors,  the  sunshine  lay  a  fresh 
yellow  upon  the  land,  and  because  the  joy  of  life  was 
in  her  blood  and,  like  the  birds,  she  had  no  other  means 
of  expression  at  hand.  Blue's  feet  sank  to  the  fet- 
locks in  the  rich,  black  soil  of  the  little  meadow  that 
lay  smooth  to  the  tumbling  sweep  of  the  river  behind 
its  own  little  willow  fringe.  His  ears  perked  forward, 
his  eyes  rolling  watchfully  for  strange  sights  and 
sounds,  he  stepped  softly  forward,  ready  to  wheel  at 
the  slightest  alarm  and  gallop  back  up  the  gorge  to 
more  familiar  ground.  It  was  long  since  Billy  Louise 
had  turned  his  head  down  the  rocky  trail,  and  Blue 
liked  little  the  gloom  of  the  gorge  and  the  sudden  change 
to  soft,  black  soil  that  stopped  just  short  of  being  boggy 
in  the  wet  places.  Where  the  trail  led  into  a  marshy 
crossing  of  the  big,  irrigating  ditch  that  brought  the 
stream  from  far  up  the  gorge  to  water  meadow  and 
orchard,  Blue  halted  and  cast  a  look  of  disapproval 
back  at  his  rider.  Billy  Louise  stopped  singing  and 
laughed  at  him. 

"  I  guess  you  can  go  where  a  cow  can  go,  you  silly 


62     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

thing.     Mud  's  a  heap  easier  than  lava  rock,  if  you 
only  knew  it,  Blue.     Get  along  with  you." 

Blue  lowered  his  head,  snuffed  suspiciously  at  the 
water-filled  tracks,  and  would  have  turned  back.  Mud 
he  despised  instinctively,  since  he  had  nearly  mired  on 
the  creek  bank  when  he  was  a  sucking  colt. 

"  Blue !  Get  across  that  ditch,  or  I  '11  beat  you  to 
death !  "  The  voice  of  Billy  Louise  was  soft  with  a 
caressing  note  at  the  end,  so  that  the  threat  did  not 
sound  very  savage,  after  all.  She  sniffed  at  the  branch 
of  cherry  blossoms  and  reined  the  horse  back  to  face 
the  ditch.  And  Blue,  who  had  a  will  of  his  own, 
snorted  and  wheeled,  this  time  in  frank  rebellion  against 
her  command. 

"  Oh,  will  you  ?     Well,  you  '11  cross  that  ditch,  you 
know,  sooner  or  later  —  so  you  might  just  as  well  — 
Blue  reared  and  whirled  again,  plunging  two  rods  back 
toward  the  cherry  thicket. 

Billy  Louise  set  her  teeth  against  her  lower  lip,  slid 
her  rawhide  quirt  from  slim  wrist  to  firm  hand-grip, 
and  proceeded  to  match  Blue's  obstinacy  with  her  own ; 
and  since  the  obstinacy  of  Billy  Louise  was  stronger 
and  finer  and  backed  by  a  surer  understanding  of  the 
thing  she  was  fighting  against,  Blue  presently  lifted 
himself,  leaped  the  ditch  in  one  clean  jump,  and 
snorted  when  he  sank  nearly  to  his  knees  in  the  soft, 
black  soil  beyond. 

From  there  to  the  pink  drift  of  peach  bloom  against 
the  dull  brown  of  the  bluff,  Blue  galloped  angrily,  leav- 
ing deep,  black  prints  in  the  soft  green  of  the  meaddw. 
So  they  came  headlong  upon  Marthy,  just  as  she  was 


MARTHY  BURIES  HER  DEAD     63 

knocking  the  yellow  clay  of  the  grave  from  her  irrigat- 
ing shovel  against  the  pole  fence  of  her  pig-pen. 

u  Why,  Marthj !  "  Once  before  in  her  life  'Billy 
Louise  had  seen  Marthy's  chin  quivering  like  that,  and 
big,  slow  tears  sliding  down  the  network  of  lines  on 
Marthy's  leather/  cheeks.  With  a  painful  slump  her 
spirits  went  heavy  with  her  sympathy.  "  Marthy !  " 

She  knew  without  a  word  of  explanation  just  what 
had  happened.  From  Marthy's  bent  shoulders  sfye 
knew,  and  from  her  tear-stained  face,  and  from  the  yel- 
low soil  clinging  still  to  the  shovel  in  her  hand.  The 
Avide  eyes  of  Billy  Louise  sent  seeking  glances  up  the 
slope  where  the  soil  was  yellow;  went  to  the  long,  raw 
ridge  under  the  wall,  with  the  peach  blossoms  standing 
pitifully  awry  upon  the  western  end.  Her  eyes  filled 
with  tears.  "  Oh,  Marthy !  When  was  it  ?  " 

"  In  the  night,  sometime,  I  guess."  Marthy's  voice 
had  a  harsh  huskiness.  "  He  was  —  gone  —  when  I 
woke  up.  Well  —  he  's  better  off  than  I  be.  I  dunno 
what  woulda  become  of  him  if  I  'd  went  first."  There, 
at  last,  was  a  note  of  tenderness,  stifled  though  it  was 
and  fleeting.  "  Git  down,  Billy  Louise,  and  come  in. 
I  been  kinda  lookin'  for  yuh  to  come,  ever  sence  the 
weather  opened  up.  How  's  your  maw  ?  " 

Spoken  sympathy  was  absolutely  impossible  in  the 
face  of  that  stoical  acceptance  of  life's  harsh  law. 
Marthy  turned  toward  the  gate,  taking  the  shovel  and 
the  wheelbarrow  in  with  her.  Billy  Louise  glanced 
furtively  at  the  raw,  yellow  ridge  under  the  rock  wall 
and  rode  on  to  the  stable.  She  pulled  off  the  saddle 
and  bridle  and  turned  Blue  into  the  corral  before  she 
went  slowly  —  and  somewhat  reluctantly  —  to  the 


64     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

cabin,  squat,  old,  and  unkempt  like  its  mistress,  but 
buried  deep  in  the  renewed  sweetness  of  bloom-time. 

"  The  fruit 's  comin'  on  early  this  year,"  said  Marthy 
from  the  doorway,  her  hands  on  her  hips.  "  They  's 
goin'  to  be  lots  of  it,  too,  if  we  don't  git  a  killin'  frost." 
So  she  closed  the  conversational  door  upon  her  sorrow 
and  pointed  the  way  to  trivial,  every-day  things. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  now,  Marthy  ? "  Billy 
Louise  was  perfectly  capable  of  opening  a  conversational 
door,  even  when  it  had  been  closed  decisively  in  her 
face.  "  You  can't  get  on  here  alone,  you  know.  Did 
you  send  for  that  nephew  ?  If  you  have  n't,  you  must 
hire  somebody  till  —  " 

"  He  's  comin'.  That  letter  you  sent  over  last  month 
was  from  him.  I  dunno  when  he  '11  git  here ;  he  's  liable 
to  come  most  any  time.  I  ain't  going  to  hire  nobody. 
I  kin  git  along  alone.  I  might  as  well  of  been  alone  —  ' 
Even  harsh  Marthy  hesitated  and  did  not  finish  the 
sentence  that  would  have  put  a  slight  upon  her  dead. 

"  I  '11  stay  to-night,  anyway,"  said  Billy  Louise. 
"  Just  a  week  ago  I  hired  John  Pringle  and  that  little 
breed  wife  of  his  for  the  summer.  I  could  n't  afford 
it,"  she  added,  with  a  small  sigh,  "  but  Ward  had  to  go 
back  to  his  claim,  and  mommie  needs  someone  in  the 
house.  She  has  n't  been  a  bit  well,  all  winter.  And 
I  've  turned  all  the  stock  out  for  the  summer  and  have 
to  do  a  lot  of  riding  on  them ;  it 's  that  or  let  them 
scatter  all  over  the  country  and  then  have  to  hire  a 
rep  for  every  round-up.  I  can't  afford  that,  I  have  n't 
got  cattle  enough  to  pay;  and  I  like  to  ride,  anyway. 
I've  got  them  pretty  well  located  along  the  creek,  up 
at  the  head  of  the  canyons.  The  grass  is  coming  on 


MARTHY  BURIES  HER  DEAD     65 

fine,  so  they  don't  stray  much.  Are  you  going  to  turn 
your  cattle  out,  Marthy  ?  I  see  you  have  n't  yet." 

"  No,  I  ain't  yit.  I  dunno.  I  was  going  to  sell  'em 
down  to  jest  what  the  pasture  '11  keep.  I  'm  gittin'  too 
old  to  look^  after  'em.  But  I  dunno  —  When  Charlie 
gits  here,  mebby  —  " 

"  Oh,  is  that  the  nephew  ?  I  did  n't  know  his  name."" 
Billy  Louise  was  talking  aimlessly  to  keep  her  thoughts 
away  from  the  pitifulness  of  the  sordid  little  tragedy  in 
this  beauty-spot  and  to  drive  that  blank,  apathetic  look 
from  Marthy's  hard  eyes. 

"  Charlie  Fox,  his  name  is.  I  hope  he  turns  out  a 
good  worker.  I  've  never  had  a  chance  to  git  ahead  any ; 
but  if  Charlie  '11  jest  take  holt,  I  '11  mebby  git  some 
comfort  outa  life  yit." 

"  He  ought  to,  I  'm  sure.  And  everyone  thinks 
you  've  done  awfully  well,  Marthy.  What  can  I  do 
now?  Wash  the  dishes  and  straighten  things  up,  I 
guess." 

"  You  need  n't  do  nothin'  you  ain't  a  mind  to  do, 
Billy  Louise.  I  don't  want  you  to  think  you  got  to  slop 
around  washin'  my  dirty  dishes.  I  'm  goin'  on  down 
into  the  medder  and  work  on  a  ditch  I  'm  puttin'  in. 
You  jest  do  what  you  're  a  mind  to."  She  picked 
up  the  shovel  and  went  off  down  the  jungly  path,  her- 
self the  ugliest  object  in  the  Cove,  where  she  had 
created  so  much  beauty. 

Again  the  sympathetic  soul  of  Billy  Louise  had  be- 
trayed her  into  performing  an  extremely  disagreeable 
task.  Shudderingly  she  looked  into  the  unpleasant 
bedroom,  and  comprehending  all  of  the  sordidness  of 
the  tragedy,  spent  half  an  hour  with  her  teeth  set  hard 


66     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

together  while  she  dragged  out  dingy  blankets  and  hung 
them  over  the  fence  under  a  voluptuous  plum-tree.  The 
next  hour  was  so  disagreeably  employed  that  she  won- 
dered afterward  how  even  her  sympathy  could  have 
driven  her  to  the  things  she  did.  She  carried  more 
water,  after  she  had  scrubbed  that  bedroom,  and  opened 
the  window  with  the  aid  of  the  hammer,  and  set  the 
tea-kettle  on  to  heat  the  dish-water.  Then,  because  her 
mind  was  full  of  poor,  dead  Jase,  she  took  the  branches 
of  wild  cherry  and  hawthorn  blossoms  she  had  gathered 
coming  down  the  gorge  and  went  up  the  slope  to  lay 
them  on  his  grave. 

She  sat  down  on  the  rock  where  Marthy  had  rested 
after  digging  the  grave,  and  with  her  chin  in  her  two 
cupped  palms,  stared  out  across  the  river  at  the  heaped 
bluffs  and  down  at  the  pink-and-white  patch  of  fruit- 
trees.  She  was  trying,  as  the  young  will  always  try, 
to  solve  the  riddle  of  life ;  and  she  was  baffled  and  un- 
happy because  she  could  not  find  any  answer  at  all  that 
pleased  both  her  ideals  and  her  reason.  And  then  she 
heard  a  man's  voice  lifted  up  in  riotous  song,  and  she 
turned  her  head  toward  the  opening  of  the  gorge  and 
listened,  her  eyes  brightening  while  she  waited. 

"  Foot  in  the  stirrup  and  hand  on  the  horn, 
Best  damn  cowboy  ever  was  born, 
Coma  ti  yi  youpy,  youpy-a,  youpy-a, 
Coma  ti  yi  youpy,  youpy-a!  " 

Billy  Louise,  with  her  chin  still  in  her  palms,  smiled 
and  hummed  the  tune  under  her  breath ;  that  shows  how 
quickly  we  throw  off  the  burdens  of  our  neighbors. 
"  Wonder  what  he  's  doing  down  here  ?  "  she  asked  her- 
self, and  smiled  again. 


MARTHY  BURIES  HER  DEAD     67 

"  I  '11  sell  my  outfit  soon  as  I  can, 
I  won't  punch  cattle  for  no  damn*  man, 
Coma  ti  yi  youpy,  youpy-a,  youpy-a, 
Coma  ti  yi  youpy,  youpy-a! 

"  I  'm  goin'  back  to  town   to  draw    my  money, 
I  'm'going  back  to  town,  to  see  my  honey, 
Coma  ti  yi  —  " 

Ward  came  into  sight  through  the  little  meadow,  rid- 
ing slowly,  with  both  hands  clasped  over  the  horn  of  the 
saddle,  his  hat  tilted  back  on  his  head,  and  his  whole 
attitude  one  of  absolute  content  with  life.  He  saw 
Billy  Louise  almost  as  soon  as  she  glimpsed  him  —  and 
she  had  been  watching  that  bit  of  road  quite  closely.  He 
flipped  the  reins  to  one  side  and  turned  from  the  trail 
to  ride  straight  up  the  slope  to  where  she  was. 

Billy  Louise,  with  a  self-reproachful  glance  at  the 
grave,  ran  down  the  slope  to  meet  him  —  an  unexpected 
welcome  which  made  Ward's  heart  leap  in  his  chest. 

"  Oh,  Ward,  for  heaven's  sake  don't  be  singing  that 
come-all-ye  at  the  top  of  your  voice,  like  that.  Don't 
you  —  " 

"  K~ow  I  was  given  to  understand  that  you  liked  that 
same  come-all-ye.  Have  you  been  educating  your  musi- 
cal taste  in  the  last  week,  Miss  William  Louisa  ? " 
Ward  stopped  his  horse  before  her,  and  with  his  hands 
still  clasped  over  the  saddle-horn,  looked  down  at  her 
with  that  hidden  smile  —  and  something  else. 

<;  Xo,  I  have  n't.  I  don't  have  to  educate  myself  to 
the  point  wJiere  I  know  the  Chisholm  Trail  isn't  a 
proper  kind  of  funeral  hymn,  Ward  Warren."  Billy 
Louise  glanced  over  her  shoulder  and  lowered  her  voice 
instinctively,  as  we  all  do  when  death  has  come  close 
and  stopped.  "  Jase  died  last  night ;  that 's  his  grave 


68     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

up  there.  Is  n't  it  perfectly  pitiful  ?  Poor  old  Marthy 
was  here  all  solitary  alone  with  him.  And  —  Ward ! 
She  dug  that  grave  her  own  self,  and  took  him  up  and 
buried  him  —  and,  Ward  !  She  —  she  wheeled  him  up 
in  the  —  wheelbarrow!  She  had  to,  of  course.  Shp 
could  n't  carry  him.  But  is  n't  it  awful  ?  "  Her  hands 
were  up,  patting  and  smoothing  the  neck  of  his  horse, 
and  her  face  was  bent  to  hide  the  tears  that  stood  in 
her  eyes,  and  the  quiver  of  her  mouth. 

Ward  drew  in  his  lip,  bit  it,  and  let  it  go.  He  was 
a  man,  and  he  had  seen  much  of  tragedy  and  trouble ; 
also,  he  did  not  know  Marthy  or  Jase.  His  chief 
emotion  was  one  of  resentment  against  anything  that 
brought  tears  to  Billy  Louise ;  she  had  not  hidden  them 
from  him ;  they  were  the  first  and  most  important  ele- 
ment in  that  day's  happenings,  so  far  as  he  was  con- 
cerned. He  leaned  and  flipped  the  end  of  his  reins 
lightly  down  on  her  bare  head. 

"  William  Louisa,  if  you  cry  about  it,  I  '11  —  do 
something  shocking,  most  likely.  Yes,  it 's  awful ;  a 
whole  lot  of  life  is  awful.  But  it 's  done,  and  Mrs. 
Martha  appears  to  be  a  woman  with  a  whole  lot  of  grit, 
so  the  chances  are  she  '11  carry  her  load  like  a  man. 
She  '11  be  horribly  lonesome,  down  here !  They  lived 
alone,  did  n't  they  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  they  did  n't  seem  to  love  each  other  much." 
Billy  Louise  was  not  one  to  gloss  over  hard  facts,  even 
in  the  face  of  that  grave."  "  Marthy  was  always  kicking 
about  him,  and  he  about  her.  But  all  the  same  they 
belonged  together;  they  had  lived  together  more  years 
than  we  are  old.  And  she  's  going  to  miss  him  awfully." 

Several  minutes  they  stood  there,  talking,  while  Billy 


MARTHY  BURIES  HER  DEAD     69 

Louise  patted  the  horse  absently,  and  Ward  looked  down 
at  her  and  did  not  miss  one  little  light  or  shadow  in  her 
face.  He  had  been  alone  a  whole  week,  thinking  o'f  her, 
remember,  and  his  eyes  were  hungry  to  the  point  of 
starvation.  - 

"  You  saw  mommie,  of  course ;  you  came  from 
home  ?  " 

"  No,  I  did  not.  I  got  as  far  as  the  creek  and  saw 
Blue's  tracks  coming  down;  so  I  just  sort  of  trailed 
along,  seeing  it  was  mommie's  daughter  I  felt  most 
like  talking  to." 

"  Mommie's  daughter "  laughed  a  little  and  in- 
stinctively made  a  change  in  the  subject.  She  did  not 
see  anything  strange  in  the  fact  that  Ward  had  observed 
and  recognized  Blue's  tracks  coming  into  the  gorge. 
She  would  have  observed  and  recognized  instantly  the 
tracks  made  by  his  horse,  anywhere.  Those  things  come 
natural  to  one  who  has  lived  much  in  the  open;  and 
there  is  a  certain  individuality  in  the  hoof-prints  of 
a  horse,  as  any  plainsman  can  testify. 

"  I  've  got  to  go  in  and  wash  the  dishes,"  she  said, 
stepping  back  from  him.  "  Of  course  nothing  was  done 
in  the  cabin,  and  I  've  been  doing  a  little  house-cleaning. 
I  guess  the  dish-water  is  hot  by  this  time  —  if  it  has  n't 
all  boiled  away." 

Ward,  as  a  matter  of  course,  tied  his  horse  to  the 
fence  and  went  into  the  cabin  with  her.  He  also  asked 
her  to  stake  him  to  a  dish-towel,  which  she  did  after  a 
good  deal  of  rummaging.  He  stood  with  his  hat  on  the 
back  of  his  head,  a  cigarette  between  his  lips,  and  wiped 
the  dishes  with  much  apparent  enjoyment.  He  objected 
strongly  to  Billy  Louise's  assertion  that  she  meant  to 


70     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

scrub  the  floor,  but  when  he  found  her  quite  obdurate, 
he  changed  his  method  without  in  the  least  degree  yield- 
ing his  point,  though  for  diplomatic  reasons  he  ap- 
peared to  yield. 

He  carried  water  from  the  creek  and  filled  the  tea- 
kettle, the  big  iron  pot,  and  both  pails.  Then,  when 
Billy  Louise  had  turned  her  back  upon  him,  while  she 
looked  in  a  dark  corner  for  the  mop,  he  suddenly  seized 
her  under  the  arms  and  lifted  her  upon  the  table;  and 
before  she  had  finished  her  astonished  gaspings,  he 
caught  up  a  pail  of  water  and  sloshed  it  upon  the  floor 
under  her.  Then  he  grinned  in  his  triumph. 

"  William  Louisa,  i '  yja  get  your  feet  wet,  your 
mommie  will  take  a  club  to  you,"  he  reminded  her 
sternly.  Whereupon  he  took  the  broom  and  proceeded 
to  give  that  floor  a  real  man's  scrubbing,  refusing  to 
quarrel  with  Billy  Louise,  who  scolded  like  a  cross  old 
woman  from  the  table  —  except  when  she  simply  had 
to  stop  and  laugh  heartily  at  his  violent  method  ©f 
cleaning. 

Ward  sloshed  and  swept  and  scrubbed.  He  dug  into 
the  corners  with  a  grim  thoroughness  that  won  reluctant 
approbation  from  the  young  woman  on  the  table  with 
her  feet  tucked  under  her,  and  he  made  her  forget  poor 
old  Jase  up  on  the  hillside.  He  scrubbed  viciously  be- 
hind the  door  until  the  water  was  little  better  than  a 
thin,  black  mud. 

"  You  want  to  come  up  to  my  claim  some  time,"  he 
said,  looking  over  his  shoulder  while  he  rested  a  minute. 
"  I  '11  show  you  how  a  man  keeps  house,  William  Louisa. 
Once  a  week  I  pile  my  two  stools  on  the  table,  put  the 
cat  up  on  the  bunk  —  and  she  looks  just  about  as  com- 


MARTHY  BURIES  HER  DEAD     71 

fortable  and  happy  as  mommie's  daughter  looks  right 
now  —  and  get  busy  with  the  broom  and  good  creek 
water."  He  resettled  his  hat  on  the  back  of  his  'head 
and  went  to  work  again.  "  Mill  Creek  goes  dry  down 
below,  on  the  days  when  little  Wardie  cleans  his  cabin/' 
he  assured  her  gravely,  and  damming  up  a  muddy  pool 
with  the  broom,  he  yanked  open  the  door  and  swept 
out  the  water  with  a  perfectly  unnecessary  flourish, 
just  because  he  happened  to  be  in  a  very  exuberant 
mood. 

Billy  Louise  gave  a  squeal  of  consternation  and 
then  sat  absolutely  still,  staring  round-eyed  through  the 
doorway.  Ward  stepped  back  —  even  his  composure 
was  slightly  jarred  —  and  twisted  his  lips  amusedly. 

"  Hello,"  he  said,  after  a  few  blank  seconds.  "  You 
missed  some  of  it,  did  n't  you  ?  "  His  tone  was  mildly 
commiserating.  "  Will  you  come  in  ?  " 

"  N-o-o,  thank  you,  I  don't  believe  I  will."  The 
speaker  looked  in,  however,  saw  Billy  Louise  perched 
upon  the  table,  and  took  off  his  hat.  He  was  well 
plastered  with  dirty  water  that  ran  down  and  left 
streaks  of  mud  behind.  "  I  must  have  gotten  off  the 
road,"  he  said.  "  I  'm  looking  for  Mr.  Jason  Meilke's 
ranch." 

Billy  Louise  tucked  her  feet  farther  under  her  skirts 
and  continued  to  stare  dumbly.  Ward,  glancing  at  her 
from  the  corner  of  his  eyes,  stepped  considerately  be- 
tween her  and  the  stranger  so  that  his  broad  shoulders 
quite  hid  her  from  the  man's  curious  stare. 

"  You  Ve  struck  the  right  place,"  he  said  calmly. 
"  This  is  it."  He  picked  up  another  pail  of  water  and 
sloshed  it  upon  the  wet  floor  to  rinse  off  the  mud. 


72     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

"  Is  —  ah  —  Mrs.  Meilke  in  ?  "  One  could  not 
accuse  the  young  man  of  craning,  but  he  certainly  did 
try  to  get  another  glimpse  of  the  person  on  the  table 
and  failed  because  of  Ward. 

"  She  'a  down  in  the  meadow,"  Billy  Louise  mur- 
mured. 

"  She  'a  down  in  the  meadow,"  Ward  repeated  to 
the  bespattered  young  man.  "  You  just  go  down  past 
the  stable  and  follow  on  down  — "  he  waved  a  hand 
vaguely  before  he  took  up  the  broom  again.  "  You  '11 
find  her,  all  right,"  he  added  encouragingly 

"  Oh,  Ward !  That  must  be  Marthy's  nephew. 
What  will  he  think?" 

"  Does  it  matter  such  ah  —  a  deuce  of  a  lot  what 
he  thinks  ? "  Ward  went  on  with  his  interrupted 
scrubbing. 

"  His  name  is  Charlie  Fox,  and  he  's  been  to  col- 
lege and  he  worked  in  a  bank,"  Billy  Louise  went  on 
nervously.  "  He 's  going  to  live  here  with  Marthy 
and  run  the  ranch.  What  must  he  have  thought !  To 
have  you  sweep  all  that  dirty  water  on  him  — 

"  Oh,  not  all !  "  Ward  corrected  cheerfully.  "  Quite 
a  lot  missed  him." 

Billy  Louise  giggled.  "  What  does  he  look  like, 
Ward  ?  You  stood  squarely  in  the  way,  so  I  —  " 

"  He  looked,"  said  Ward  dispassionately,  "  like  a 
pretty  mad  young  man  with  nose,  eyes,  and  a  mouth, 
and  a  mole  in  front  of  his  left  ear." 

"  He  was  real  polite,"  said  Billy  Louise  reprovingly, 
"  and  his  voice  is  nice." 

"  Yes  ?  I  mind-read  a  heap  of  cussing.  The  po- 
liteness was  all  on  top."  Ward  chuckled  and  swept 


MARTHY  BURIES  HER  DEAD      73 

more  water  outside.     "  I  expect  you  saved  me  a  lick- 
ing that  time,  Miss  William  the  Conqueror." 

"Can  you  think  of  any  more  names  to  call- me, 
besides  my  own,  I  wonder  ? "  Billy  Louise  leaned 
and  inspected  the  floor  like  a  chicken  preparing  to  hop 
off  its  roost." 

"  Heaps  more."  The  glow  in  Ward's  eyes  was  dan- 
gerous to  their  calm  friendship.  "  Want  to  hear 
them?" 

"  No,  I  don't.  I  want  to  get  off  this  table  before 
that  college  youth  comes  back  to  be  shocked  silly  again. 
I  want  to  see  if  he  's  really  —  got  a  mole  in  front  of 
his  ear !  " 

"  You  know  what  inquisitiveness  did  to  old  lady  Lot, 
don't  you  ?  However  —  "  He  lifted  her  in  his  arms, 
and  set  her  down  outside  the  door.  "  There,  Wil- 
hemina ;  trot  along  and  see  the  nice  young  man." 

Billy  Louise  sat  down  on  the  wheelbarrow,  remem- 
bered its  latest  service,  and  got  up  hastily.  "  I  won't 
go  a  step,"  she  asserted  positively. 

Ward  had  not  wanted  her  to  go.  He  gave  her  a 
smile  and  finished  off  his  scrubbing  with  the  mop,  which 
he  handled  with  quite  surprising  skill  for  a  young 
man  who  seemed  more  at  home  in  the  saddle  than  any- 
where else. 

"  I  'm  awfully  glad  he  came,  anyway."  Billy  Louise 
pulled  down  a  budded  lilac  branch  and  sniffed  at  it. 
"  I  won't  have  to  stay  all  night,  now.  I  was  going 
to." 

"  In  that  case,  the  young  man  is  welcome  as  a  gold 
mine.  Here  they  come  —  he  and  Mrs.  Martha.  You  '11 
have  to  introduce  me,  Bill-the-Conk ;  I  have  never  met 


74     RANCH*  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

the  lady."  Ward  hastily  returned  the  mop  to  its  corner, 
rolled  down  his  sleeves,  and  picked  up  his  gloves.  Then 
he  stepped  outside  and  waited  beside  Billy  Louise,  look- 
ing not  in  the  least  like  a  man  who  has  just  wiped  a 
lot  of  dishes  and  scrubbed  a  floor. 

The  nephew,  striding  along  behind  Marthy  and  show- 
ing head  and  shoulders  above  her,  seemed  not  to  resent 
any  little  mischance,  such  as  muddy  water  flirted  upon 
him  from  a  broom.  He  grinned  reminiscently  as  he 
came  up,  shook  hands  with  the  two  of  them,  and  did 
not  let  his  glance  dwell  too  long  or  too  often  upon  Billy 
Louise,  nor  too  briefly  upon  Ward. 

"  You  Ve  got  a  splendid  place  here,  Aunt  Martha," 
he  told  the  old  woman  appreciatively.  "  I  'd  no  idea 
there  was  such  a  little  beauty-spot  down  here.  This 
is  even  more  picturesque  than  that  homey-looking  ranch 
we  passed  a  few  miles  back,  down  in  that  little  val- 
ley. I  was  hoping  that  was  your  ranch  when  I  first 
saw  it ;  and  when  I  found  it  was  n't,  I  came  near  stop- 
ping, anyway.  I  'm  glad  I  resisted  the  temptation, 
now.  This  is  worth  coming  a  long  way  to  see." 

"  I  ain't  never  had  a  chance  to  do  all  I  wanted  to 
with  it,"  said  Marthy,  with  the  first  hint  of  apology 
Billy  Louise  had  ever  heard  from  her.  "  I  only  had 
one  pair"  of  hands  to  work  with  —  " 

"  We  '11  fix  that  part.  Don't  you  worry  a  minute. 
You  're  going  to  sit  in  a  rocking-chair  and  give  or- 
ders, from  now  on.  And  if  I  can't  make  good  here, 
I  ought  to  be  booted  all  the  way  up  that  spooky  gorge. 
Is  n't  that  right  ?  "  He  turned  to  Warren  with  a  cer- 
tain air  of  appraisement  behind  the  unmistakable  cor- 
diality of  his  voice. 


MARTHY  BURIES  HER  DEAD      73 

'•'  A  man  ought  to  make  good  here,  all  right,"  Ward 
agreed  neutrally.  "  It 's  a  fine  place." 

"  It  ain't  as  fine  as  I  'd  like  to  see  it,"  began  Marthy 
depreciatingly. 

"  As  you  will  see  it,  let 's  say  —  if  that  does  n't  sound 
too  conceited  from  a  tenderfoot,"  supplemented  the 
nephew,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder  with. a 
gentle  little  pat.  "  Folks,  I  don't  want  to  seem  too 
exuberantly  sure  of  myself,  but  —  "  he  waved  a  care- 
fully-kept hand  eloquently  at  the  luxuriance  around 
him,  "  —  I  'm  all  fussed  up  over  this  place,  honest. 
I  thought  I  was  coming  to  a  shack  in  the  middle  of 
the  sage-brush ;  I  was  primed  to  buckle  down  and  make 
good  even  in  the  desert.  And  bumping  into  this  sort 
of  thing  without  warning  has  gone  to  my  alleged  brain 
a  bit.  What  I  don't  know  about  ranching  would  fill 
a  library ;  but  there  's  this  much,  anyway.  There  won't 
be  any  more  ditch-digging  for  a  certain  game  little  lady 
in  this  Cove."  He  gave  the  shoulder  another  pat,  and 
he  smiled  down  at  her  in  a  way  that  made  Billy  Louise 
blink.  And  Marthy,  who  had  probably  never  before 
been  called  a  game  little  lady,  came  near  breaking 
down  and  crying  before  them  all. 

When  Ward  went  to  the  stable  after  Blue,  half  an 
hour  later,  Charlie  Fox  went  with  him.  His  manner 
when  they  were  alone  was  different ;  not  so  exuberantly 
cheerful  —  more  frank  and  practical. 

"  Honest,  it  floored  me  completely  to  see  what  that 
poor  old  woman  has  been  up  against  down  here,"  he 
told  Warren,  stuffing  tobacco  into  a  silver-rimmed,  briar 
pipe  while  Ward  saddled  Blue.  "  I  don't  know  a  hell 
of  a  lot  about  this  ranch  game;  but  if  that  old  lady 


76     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

can  put  it  across,  I  guess  I  can  wobble  along  some- 
how. Too  bad  the  old  man  cashed  in  just  now;  but 
Aunt  Martha  as  good  as  told  me  he  was  n't  much  force, 
so  maybe  I  can  play  a  lone  hand  here  as  easy  as  I 
could  have  done  with  him.  Live  near  here  ?  " 

"  Fifteen  miles  or  so."  Ward  was  not  in  his  most 
expansive  mood,  chiefly  for  the  reason  that  this  man  was 
a  stranger,  and  of  strangers  he  was  inclined  to  fight 
shy. 

"  Oh,  well  —  it  might  have  been  fifty.  I  know  how 
you  fellows  measure  distances  out  here.  I  'm  likely 
to  need  a  little  coaching,  now  and  then,  if  I  live  up  to 
what  I  just  now  told  the  old  lady." 

"  From  all  I  know  of  her,  you  won't  need  to  go  out 
of  the  Cove  for  advice." 

"  Well,  that 's  right,  judging  from  the  looks  of  things. 
A  woman  that  can  go  up  against  a  proposition  like  she 
did  to-day  and  handle  it  alone,  is  no  mental  weakling; 
to  say  nothing  of  the  way  this  ranch  looks.  All  right, 
Warren ;  I  '11  make  out  alone,  I  reckon." 

Afterwards,  when  Ward  thought  it  over,  he  remem- 
bered gratefully  that  Charlie  Fox  had  refrained  from 
attempting  any  discussion  of  Billy  Louise  or  from  ask- 
ing any  questions  even  remotely  personal.  He  knew 
enough  about  men  to  appreciate  the  tactful  silences  of 
the  stranger,  and  when  Billy  Louise,  on  the  way  home, 
predicted  that  the  nephew  was  going  to  be  a  success, 
Ward  did  not  feel  like  qualifying  the  verdict. 

"  He  's  going  to  be  a  godsend  to  the  old  lady,"  he 
said.  "  He  seems  to  have  his  sights  raised  to  making 
things  come  easier  for  her  from  now  on." 

"  Well,  she  certainly  deserves  it.    For  a  college  young 


77 

man  —  the  ordinary,  smart  young  man  who  comes  out 
here  to  astonish  the  natives  —  he  's  almost  human.  I 
was  so  afraid  that  Marthy  'd  get  him  out  here  and 
then  discover  he  waa  a  perfect  nuisance.  So  many 
men  are." 


CHAPTER  VI 

X 

A   MATTER    OF    TWELVE    MONTHS    OB   SO 

OUT  in  the  wide  spaces,  where  homes  are  but  scat- 
tered oases  in  the  general  emptiness,  life  does 
not  move  uniformly,  so  far  as  it  concerns  incidents  or 
acquaintanceships.  A  man  or  a  ranch  may  experience 
complete  isolation,  and  the  unbroken  monotony  which 
sometimes  accompanies  it,  for  a  month  at  a  time.  Sum- 
mer work  or  winter  storm  may  be  the  barrier  tem- 
porarily raised,  and  life  resolves  itself  into  a  succes- 
sion of  days  and  nights  unbroken  by  outside  influences. 
They  leave  their  mark  upon  humans  —  these  periods 
of  isolation.  For  better,  for  worse,  the  man  changes 
slowly  with  the  months;  he  grows  more  bovine  in  his 
phlegmatic  acceptance  of  his  environment,  or  he  becomes 
restless  and  fired  with  a  surplus  energy  of  ambition, 
or  he  falls  to  dreaming  dreams ;  whatever  angle  he  takes, 
he  changes,  imperceptibly  perhaps,  but  inevitably. 

Then  the  monotony  is  broken  and  sometimes  with  vio- 
lence. Incident  rushes  in  upon  the  heels  of  incident, 
and  life  becomes  as  tumultuous  as  the  many  moods  of 
nature  when  it  has  a  wide,  open  land  for  a  play- 
ground. 

That  is  why,  perhaps,  so  much  of  western  life  is 
painted  with  broad  strokes  and  raw  colors.  You  are 
given  the  crowded  action,  the  unleashing  of  emotions 
and  temperaments  that  have  smoldered  long  under  the 


TWELVE  MONTHS  OR  SO         79 

blanket  of  solitary  living.  You  are  shown  an  effect 
without  being  given  the  cause  of  that  effect.  You  pro- 
nounce the  West  wild,  and  you  never  think  of  the  long 
winters  that  bred  in  silence  and  brooding  solitude  those 
storm-periods  which  seem  so  primitively  savage ;  of  the 
days  wherein  each  nature  is  thrown  upon  its  own  re- 
sources, with  nothing  to  feed  upon  but  itself  and  its 
own  personal  interests.  And  so  characters  change,  and 
one  wonders  why. 

There  was  Billy  Louise,  with  her  hands  and  her  mind 
full  of  the  problems  her  father  had  died  still  trying  to 
solve.  She  did  not  in  the  least  realize  that  she  was 
attempting  anything  out  of  the  ordinary  when  she  took 
a  half-developed  ranch  in  the  middle  of  a  land  almost 
as  wild  as  it  had  been  when  the  Indians  wandered  over 
it  unmolested,  a  few  cattle  and  horses  and  a  bundle 
of  debts  to  make  her  head  swim,  and  set  herself  the 
problem  of  increasing  the  number  of  cattle  and  elimi- 
nating the  debts,  and  of  wresting  prosperity  out  of  a 
condition  of  picturesquely  haphazard  poverty.  She 
went  about  it  with  the  pathetic  confidence  of  youth  and 
ignorance,  ^he  rode  up  and  down  the  canyons  and  over 
the  higher,  grassier  ridges,  to  watch  the  cattle  on  their 
summer  range  and  keep  them  from  straying.  She  went 
with  John  Pringle  after  posts  and  helped  him  fence 
certain  fertile  slopes  and  hollows  for  winter  grazing. 
She  drove  the  rickety  old  mower  through  the  waving 
grass  along  the  creek  bottons  and  hummed  little,  con- 
tented tunes  while  she  watched  the  grass  sway  and  fall 
evenly  when  the  sickle  shuttled  through.  She  put  on 
her  gymnasium  bloomers  and  drove  'the  hay  wagon,  and 
felt  only  a  pleasurable  thrill  of  excitement  when  John 


80     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Pringle  inadvertently  pitched  an  indignant  rattlesnake 
up  to,  her  with  a  forkful  of  hay.  She  killed  the  snake 
with  her  pitchfork  and  pinched  off  the  rattles,  proud 
of  their  size  and  number. 

When  she  sold  seven  fat,  three-year-old  steers  that 
fall, and  paid  a  note  twice  renewed,  managing  besides 
to  buy  the  winter  supply  of  "  grub "  and  a  sewing- 
machine  and  a  set  of  silver  teaspoons  for  her  mother, 
oh,  but  she  was  proud ! 

Ward  rode  down  to  the  ranch  that  night,  and  Billy 
Louise  showed  him  the  note  with  its  red  stamp,  oblong 
and  imposing  and  slightly  blurred  on  the  "  paid  "  side. 
Ward  was  almost  as  proud  as  she,  if  looks  and  tones 
went  for  anything,  and  he  helped  Billy  Louise  a  good 
deal  by  telling  her  just  how  much  she  ought  to  pay 
for  the  yearlings  old  Johnson,  over  on  Snake  River, 
had  for  sale.  Also  he  told  her  how  much  hay  it  would 
take  to  winter  them  —  though  she  knew  that  already 
—  and  just  what  percentage  of  profit  she  might  expect 
from  a  given  number  in  a  given  period  of  time. 

He  spoke  of  his  own  work  and  plans,  as  well.  He  was 
going  into  cattle,  also,  as  fast  as  possible,  he  said.  In 
a  few  years  the  sheep  would  probably  come  in  and 
crowd  them  out,  but  in  the  meantime  there  was  money 
in  cattle  —  and  the  more  cattle,  the  more  money.  He 
was  going  to  work  for  wages  till  the  winter  set  in.  He 
did  n't  know  when  he  would  see  Billy  Louise,  he  said, 
but  he  would  stop  on  his  way  back. 

To  them  that  short  visit  was  something  more  than 
an  incident.  It  gave  Ward  new  stuff  for  "his  dreams 
and  new  fuel  for  the  fire  of  ambition.  To  Billy  Louise 
it  also  furnished  new  dream  material.  She  rode  the 


TWELVE  MONTHS  OR  SO         81 

hills  and  saw  in  fancy  whole  herds  of  cattle  where  now 
wandered  scattered  animals.  She  dreamed  of  the  time 
when  Ward  and  Charlie  Fox  and  she  would  pool  their 
interests  and  run  a  wagon  of  their  own,  and  gather  their 
stock  from  wide  ranges.  She  was  foolish,  in  that ;  but 
that  is  what  she  liked  to  dream. 

Mentioning  Charlie  Fox  calls  to  mind  the  'fact  that 
he  was  changing  more  than  any  of  them.  Billy  Louise 
did  not"  see  him  very  often,  but  when  she  did  it  was 
with  a  deepening  impression  of  his  unflagging  tender- 
ness to  Marthy  —  a  tenderness 'that  manifested  itself 
in  many  little,  unassuming  thoughtf ulnesses  —  and  of 
his  good-humor  and  his  energy  and  several  other  quali- 
ties which  one  must  admire. 

"  Mommie,  that  nephew  goes  at  everything  just  as  if 
it  were  a  game,"  she  said  after  one  visit.  "  You  know 
what  that  cabin  has  always  been:  dark  and  dirty  and 
not  a  comfortable  chair  to  sit  down  in,  or  a  book  or 
magazine  or  anything  ?  Well,  I  'm  just  going  to  take 
you  over  there  some  day  and  let  you  see  the  difference. 
He  's  cut  two  more  windows  and  built  on  an  addition 
with  a  porch,  if  you  please.  And  he  has  a  bookcase 
he  made  himself,  just  stuffed  with  books  and  maga- 
zines. And  he  made  Marthy  a  rocking-chair,  mommie, 
and  —  she  wears  a  white  apron,  and  has  her  hair 
combed,  and  sits  and  rocks!  Honest  to  goodness,  you 
would  n't  think  she  was  the  same  woman." 

"  Marthy  always  seemed  to  me  more  like  a  man  than 
a  woman,"  said  her  mother.  "  She  did  n't  have  noth- 
ing domestic  in  her  whole  make-up,  far  as  I  could  see. 
Her  cooking  —  " 

"  Well,    mommie,    Marthy    cooks    real    well    now. 


82     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Charlie  praises  up  her  bread,  and  she  takes  lots  of  pains 
with  it.  And  she  just  fusses  with  her  flowers  and  lets 
him  run  the  ranch;  and,  mommie,  she  just  worships, 
Charlie !  The  way  she  sits  and  looks  at  him  when  he  's 
talking  —  you  can  see  she  almost  says  prayers  to  him. 
She  does  let  her  dishpan  stay  greasy  —  I  don't  suppose 
you  can  change  a  person  completely  —  but  everything 
is  lots  cleaner  than  it  used  to  be  before  Charlie  came. 
He  's  going  to  buy  more  cattle,  too,  he  says.  Young 
stock,  mostly.  He  says  there  's  no  sense  in  anybody  be- 
ing poor,  in  such  a  country  as  this.  He  says  he  in- 
tends to  make  Marthy  rich;  Aunt  Martha,  he  calls  her. 
I  'm  certainly  going  to  take  you  over  to  see  her,  mom- 
mie, the  very  first  nice  day  when  I  don't  have  a  million 
other  things  to  do."  Billy  Louise  sighed  and  pushed 
her  hair  back  impatiently.  "  I  wish  I  were  a  man  and 
as  smart  as  Charlie  Fox,"  she  added,  with  the  plaintive 
note  that  now  sometimes  crept  into  her  voice  When 
she  realized  of  a  sudden  how  great  a  load  she  was 
carrying. 

"  A  man  can  get  out  and  do  things.  And  a  woman  — 
why,  even  Ward  seems  to  think  it 's  perfectly  wonder- 
ful, mommie,  that  we  don't  just  about  starve,  with  me 
running  the  ranch!  I  know  he  does.  Every  time  I 
do  a  thing  right  or  pay  off  a  note  or  anything,  he  looks 
as  if  —  " 

"  T  would  n't  be  a  mite  surprised,  Billy  Louise,"  said 
her  mother,  with  a  flash  of  amused  comprehension,  "  if 
you  kinda  misread  Ward  sometimes.  Them  eyes  of 
his  are  pretty  keen,  and  they  see  a  whole  lot ;  but  they 
ain't  easy  to  read,  for  all  that.  I  guess  Ward  don't 
think  it 's  anything  surprising  that  you  're  getting  along 


TWELVE  MONTHS  OR  SO         83 

so  well,  Billy  Louise.  I  surmise  he  knows  you  're  a 
better  manager  than  a  lot  of  men  are." 

"  I  'm  not  the  manager  Charlie  Fox  is,  though." 
Billy  Louise  was  frankly  envious. 

"  He  did  n't  have  any  more  to  do  with-  than. 
I  've  got,  and  he 's  accomplished  a  lot  more.  And, 
besides,  he  started  in  green  at  the  whole  business." 
She  rested  her  chin  in  her  cupped  palms  and  stared 
disconsolately  at  the  high-piled  hills  behind  which  the 
sun  was  setting  gloriously.  "  He 's  going  to  pipe 
water  into  the  house,  mommie,"  she  observed,  after  a 
silence.  "  I  wish  —  " 

"  Well,  he  's  welcome.  I  don't  want  no  water  piped 
in  here,  Billy  Louise,  and  tastin'  of  the  pipe.  I  'd 
rather  carry  it  and  have  it  sweet  and  fresh.  Don't 
you  go  worrying  because  you  can't  do  everything  Charlie 
Fox  does.  Likely  as  not  he  's  pilin'  up  the  debts  in- 
stead of  payin'  'em  off  as  you  're  doing." 

"  I  don't  know ;  I  don't  believe  he  is,  though.  I  think 
he  's  just  managing  right  and  making  every  dollar  count. 
He  got  calves  from  Seabeck,  up  the  river,  cheaper  than 
I  did  from  Johnson,  mommie.  He  rode  all  over  the 
country  and  looked  up  range  conditions  and  prices.  He 
did  n't  say  so,  but  he  made  me  feel  foolish  because  I 
just  bought  the  first  ones  I  saw,  without  waiting  to 
look  around  first.  But  —  Ward  said  it  was  a  good  buy, 
and  he  ought  to  know ;  only,  the  fact  remains  that  Char- 
lie has  done  better.  I  guess  it  is  n't  experience  that 
counts,  altogether.  Charlie  Fox  has  got  brains !  " 

"  Land  alive !  I  guess  he  ain't  the  only  one,  Billy 
Louise.  You  're  doing  better  than  your  father  done, 
and  he  was  n't  any  Jase  Meilke  kind  of  a  man,  but  a 


84     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

good,  hard  worker  always.  You  don't  want  to  get  all 
outa  conceit  with  yourself  just  because  Charlie  Fox 
is  gitting  along  all  right.  I  don't  know  as  it 's  so  won- 
derful. Marthy  was  always  forehanded,  and  she  made 
money  there  and  never  spent  any  to  speak  of.  Though 
I  should  n't  carry  the  idea  she  's  stingy,  after  the  way 
she  —  " 

If  Billy  Louise  had  not  been  so  absorbed  with  her 
own  discontent,  she  might  have  wondered  at  her 
mother's  sudden  silence.  But  she  did  not  even  notice 
it.  She  was  comparing  two  young  men  and  measuring 
them  with  certain  standards  of  her  own,  and  she  was 
not  quite  satisfied  with  the  result.  She  had  seen  Charlie 
Fox  spring  up  with  a  perfectly  natural  courtesy  and 
hand  Marthy  a  chair  when  she  entered  the  room  where 
he  had  been  discussing  books  with  Billy  Louise.  She 
had  seen  him  stand  beside  his  own  chair  until  Marthy 
was  seated  and  then  had  heard  him  deftly  turn  the 
conversation  into  a  channel  wherein  Marthy  had  also 
an  interest.  Parlor  politeness  —  and  something  more ; 
something  infinitely  finer  and  better  than  mere  obe- 
dience to  certain  conventional  rules. 

She  had  seen  that  and  more,  and  she  had  a  vivid  pic- 
ture of  Ward,  sitting  absorbed  in  a  book  which  he  never 
afterwards  mentioned,  and  letting  her  or  her  mother 
lift  heavy  pieces  of  wood  upon  the  fire  within  arm's 
reach  of  him ;  sitting  with  his  hat  tilted  back  upon  his 
head  and  a  cigarette  gone  cold  in  his  fingers,  and  per- 
haps not  replying  at  all  when  he  was  spoken  to.  She 
had  never  considered  him  uncouth  or  rude ;  he  was  Ward 
Warren,  and  these  were  certain  individual  traits  which 
he  possessed  and  which  seemed  a  part  of  him.  She 


TWELVE  MONTHS  OR  SO         85 

had  sensed  dimly  that  some  natures  are  too  big  and 
too  strong  for  petty  rules  of  deportment,  and  that  Ward 
might  sit  all  day  in  the  house  with  his  hat  on  his  head 
and  still  be  a  gentleman  of  the  finer  sort.  And  yet, 
now  that  Charlie  Fox  had  come  and  presented  an  ex- 
ample of  th,e  world's  standard,  Billy  Louise  could  not, 
for  the  life  of  her,  help  wishing  that  Ward  was  differ- 
ent. And  there  were  other  things;  things  which  Billy 
Louise  was  ashamed  to  recognize  as  influencing  her 
in  any  way,  and  yet  which  did  influence  her.  For 
instance,  Ward  lived  to  himself  and  for  himself,  and 
not  always  wisely  or  well.  He  was  arrogant  in  his 
opinions  —  Billy  Louise  had  rather  admired  what  she 
had  called  his  strength,  but  it  had  become  arrogance 
now  —  and  his  scorn  was  swift  and  keen  for  blunder- 
ings.  And  there  was  Charlie,  always  thinking  and  plan- 
ning for  Marthy  and  putting  her  wishes  first;  want- 
ing to  make  sure  that  he  himself  had  not  blundered, 
and  with  a  conservative  estimate  of  himself  that  was 
refreshingly  modest.  And  — 

"  Ain't  that  Ward  coming,  Billy  Louise  ?  Seems  to 
me  it  looks  like  him  —  the  way  he  rides." 

Billy  Louise  started  guiltily  and  looked  up  toward 
the  trail,  now  piled  deep  with  shadows.  It  was  Ward, 
all  right,  and  his  voice,  lifted  in  a  good-humored  shout, 
brought  Billy  Louise  to  her  feet  and  sent  her  down 
the  slope  to  the  stable,  where  he  had  stopped  as  a 
matter  of  course. 

When  he  turned  and  smiled  at  her  through  the  dusk 
and  said,  "  'Lo,  Bill,"  in  a  voice  that  was  like  a  spoken 
kiss,  a  certain  young  woman  hated  herself  for  a  weak- 
souled  traitor  and  mentally  called  Charlie  Fox  a  popin- 


86     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

jay,  which  was  merely  shifting  injustice  to  another 
resting-place. 

"  Are  you  plumb  tickled  to  death  to  see  me,  Wil- 
liam «" 

"  Oh,  no;  but  I  guess  I  can  stand  it !  " 

A  smile  to  go  with  both  sentences,  and  a  strong  un- 
dercurrent of  something  unnamed  in  their  tones  —  whc 
wanted  the  pasteurized  milk  and  distilled  water  of  a 
perfectly  polite  form  of  greeting?  Not  Billy  Louise, 
if  one  might  judge  from  that  young  woman's  face  and 
voice  and  manner.  Not  Ward,  though  he  was  perfectly 
unconscious  of  having  been  weighed  or  measured 
or  judged  by  any  standard  at  all. 

And  yet,  when  Charlie  Fox  rode  down  to  the  Wol- 
verine a  week  or  so  later,  tied  his  horse  under  the  shed, 
and  came  up  to  the  cabin  as  though  he  knew  of  no 
better  place  in  all  the  world ;  when  he  greeted  mommie 
as  though  she  were  something  precious  in  his  sight, 
and  talked  with  her  about  the  things  she  was  most 
interested  in,  and  actually  made  her  feel  as  if  he  were 
immensely  interested  also,  Billy  Louise  simply  could 
not  help  admiring  him  and  liking  him  for  his  frank 
good-nature  and  his  kindness.  She  had  never  before 
met  a  man  just  like  Charlie  Fox,  though  she  had  known 
many  who  were  what  Ward  once  called  "  parlor-broke." 
She  felt  when  she  was  with  him  that  he  had  a  strength 
to  match  Ward's  strength ;  only,  this  strength  was  tamed 
and  trained  and  smoothed  so  that  it  did  not  obtrude 
upon  one's  notice.  It  was  not  every  young  man  who 
would  come  out  into  the  wilderness  and  roughen  his 
hands  on  an  irrigating  shovel  and  live  a  cramped,  lonely 
life,  for  the  sake  of  a  harsh,  illiterate  old  woman  like 


TWELVE  MONTHS  OR  SO         87 

Marthy  Meilke.  She  did  not  believe  Ward  would  do 
that.  He  would  have  to  feel  some  tie  stronger  than 
the  one  between  Marthy  and  her  nephew  before  he  would 
change  his  life  and  his  own  plans  for  anyone. 

It  was  not  mntil  Charlie  was  leaving  that  he  gave 
Billy  Louise  a  hint  that  his  errand  was  not  yet  ac- 
complished. She  walked  down  with  him  to  where  his 
horse  was  tred  and  so  gave  him  a  chance  to  speak  what 
was  in  his  mind. 

"  You  know,  I  hate  to  mention  little  worries  before 
your  mother,"  he  said.  "  Those  pathetic  eyes  of  hers 
make  me  ashamed  to  bother  her  with  a  thing.  But  I 
am  worried,  Miss  Louise.  I  came  over  to  ask  you 
if  you  've  seeia  anything  of  four  calves  of  ours.  I 
know  you  ride  a  good  deal,  through  the  hills.  They 
disappeared  a  week  ago,  and  I  can't  find  any  trace 
of  them.  I  've  been  looking  all  through  the  hills,  but 
I  can't  locate  them." 

Billy  Louise  had  not  seen  them,  either,  and  she 
begged  for  particulars.  "  I  don't  see  how  they  could 
get  away  from  your  Cove,"  she  said,  "  unless  your  bars 
were  down." 

"  The  bars  were  all  right.  It  was  last  Friday,  I 
think.  I  'm  not  sure.  They  were  in  the  little  meadow 
above  the  house,  you  see.  I  was  away  that  night,  and 
Aunt  Martha  is  a  little  hard  of  hearing.  She  would  n't 
hear  anything  unless  there  were  considerable  noise.  I 
came  home  the  next  forenoon  —  I  was  over  to  Seabeck's 
—  and  the  bars  were  in  place  then.  Aunt  Martha  had  not 
been  up  the  gorge,  nor  had  anyone  come  to  the  ranch 
while  I  was  gone.  So  you  see,  Miss  Louise,  here  's  a 
very  pretty  mystery !  " 


88     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

He  laughed,  but  Billy  Louise  saw  by  his  eyes  that 
he  did  not  laugh  very  deeply,  and  that  he  was  really 
worried.  "  I  must  have  made  a  mistake  and  bought 
mountain  sheep  instead  of  calves,"  he  said  and  laughed 
again.  "  They  could  n't  have  gone  through  those  bars 
or  over  them;  and  I  did  have  a  spark  of  intelligence 
and  looked  along  the  river  for  tracks,  you  know.  They 
had  not  been  near  the  river,  which  has  soft  banks  along 
there.  They  watered  from  the  little  creek  that  comes 
down  the  gorge.  Miss  Louise,  do  you  have  flying  cat- 
tle in  Idaho  ?  " 

"  You  think  they  were  driven  off,  don't  you  ?  "  Billy 
Louise  asked  a  question  with  the  words,  and  made  a 
statement  of  it  with  her  tone,  which  was  a  trick  of 
hers. 

Charlie  Fox  shook  his  head,  but  his  eyes  did  not  com- 
plete the  denial.  "  Miss  Louise,  I  'd  wor£  every  other 
theory  to  death  before  I  'd  admit  that  possibility !  I 
don't  know  all  of  my  neighbors  'so  very  well,  but  I 
should  hesitate  a  long,  long  time  —  " 

"  It  need  n't  have  been  a  neighbor.  There  are  lots 
of  strange  men  passing  through  the  country.  Did  you 
look  for  tracks  ?  " 

"I  —  did  not.  I  did  n't  want  to  admit  that  possi- 
bility. I  decline  to  admit  it  now."  The  chin  of  Charlie 
Fox  squared  perceptibly,  so  that  Billie  Louise  caught 
a  faint  resemblance  to  Marthy  in  his  face.  u  I  saw  a 
man  accused  of  a  theft  once,"  he  said.  '  The  evi- 
dence was  —  or  seemed  —  absolutely  unassailable.  And 
afterward  he  was  exonerated  completely;  it  was  just 
a  horrible  mistake.  But  he  left  school  under  a  cloud. 
His  life  was  ruined  by  the  blunder.  I  'd  have  to  know 


TWELVE  MONTHS  OR  SO         89 

absolutely  before  I  'd  accuse  anyone  of  stealing  those 
calves,  Miss  Louise.  I  'd  have  to  see  them  in  a  man's 
corral,  with  his  brand  on  them  —  I  believe  that 's  the 
way  it 's  done,  out  here  —  and  even  then  —  " 

"  Where  have  you  looked  ?  "  There  were  reasons  why 
this  particular  subject  was  painful  to  Billy  Louise. 
"  And  are  you  sure  they  did  n't  get  out  of  that  pas- 
ture and  wander  on  down  the  Cove,  among  all  those 
willows  ?  It 's  a  perfect  jungle,  away  down.  Are  you 
sure  they  aren't  with  the  rest  of  the  cattle?  I  don't 
see  how  they  could  leave  the  Cove,  unless  they  were 
driven  out."  She  caught  a  twinkle  of  amusement  in 
his  eyes  and  stopped  short.  Of  course,  a  mere  girl 
should  not  take  it  for  granted  that  a  man  had  failed  to 
do  all  that  might  be  done.  And  Billy  Louise  had  a 
swift  conviction  that  she  would  never  think  of  talking 
like  this  to  Ward.  She  flushed  a  little ;  and  still,  Charlie 
Fox  was  a  tenderfoot.  She  was  justified  in  asking  those 
questions,  and  in  her  heart  she  knew  it. 

"  Yes,  I  thought  of  that  —  strange  as  it  may  seem." 
Charlie's  voice  was  unoffended.  On  the  contrary,  he 
seemed  glad  that  she  took  so  keen  an  interest  in  his 
affairs.  "  It  has  been  a  week,  you  know,  since  they 
flew  the  coop.  I  did  hunt  every  foot  of  that  Cove, 
twice  over.  I  drove  every  hoof  of  stock  up  and  cor- 
raled  them,  and  made  sure  these  four  were  not  in  the 
herd.  Then  I  hunted  through  every  inch  of  that  wil- 
low jungle  and  all  along  the  bluff  and  the  river;  Miss 
Louise,  I  put  in  three  days  at  it,  from  sunrise  till 
it  was  too  dark  to  see.  Then  I  began  riding  outside. 
There  isn't  a  trace  of  them  anywhere.  I  had  just 
bought  them  from  Seabeck,  you  know.  I  drove  them 


90     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

home,  and  because  they  were  tired,  and  so  was  I,  I  just 
left  them  in  that  upper  meadow  as  I  came  down  the 
gorge.  I  had  n't  branded  them  yet.  I  —  I  know  I  've 
made  an  awful  botch  of  the  thing,  Miss  Louise,"  lie 
confessed,  turning  toward  her  with  an  honest  distress 
and  a  self-flaying  humility  in  his  eyes  that  wiped  from 
Billy  Louise's  mind  any  incipient  tendency  toward  con- 
tempt. "  But  you  see  I  'm  green  at  this  ranch  game. 
And  I  never  dreamed  those  calves  were  n't  perfectly 
safe  in  there.  The  fence  was  new  and  strong;  I  built 
it  new  this  fall,  you  know.  And  the  bars  are  abso- 
lutely bars  to  any  stock  larger  than  a  rabbit.  Of 
course,"  he  added,  with  a  deprecating  note,  "  four 
calves  are  only  four  calves.  But  —  it 's  the  sense  of 
failure  that  gets  me  hardest,  Miss  Louise.  Aunt  Martha 
trusted  me  to  take  care  of  things.  Her  confidence  in 
me  fairly  takes  my  nerve.  And  losing  four  fine,  big 
heifer  calves  at  one  whack  is  no  way  to  get  rich;  is 
it,  Miss  Louise  ?  "  He  laughed,  and  again  the  laugh 
did  not  go  deep,  or  reach  his  eyes. 

"  I  hate  to  bother  you  with  this,  and  I  don't  want 
you  to  think  I  have  come  whining  for  sympathy,"  he 
said,  after  a  minute  of  moody  silence.  "  But  seeing 
they  were  not  branded  yet  —  with  our  brand  —  I 
thought  perhaps  you  had  run  across  them  and  paid  no 
attention,  thinking  they  belonged  to  Seabeck." 

Billy  Louise  smiled  a  little  to  herself.  If  he  had 
not  been  quite  so  "  green  at  the  ranch  game,"  he  would 
have  mentioned  brands  at  first,  as  the  most  important 
point,  instead  of  tacking  on  the  information  casually 
after  ten  minutes  of  other  less  vital  details. 

"  Were  they  vented  ?  "   she   asked,   suppressing  the 


TWELVE  MONTHS  OR  SO         91 

smile  so  that  it  was  merely  a  twitch  of  the  lips  which 
might  mean  anything. 

"I  —  yes,  I  think  they  were.  That 's  what  you  call 
it  when  the  former  owner  puts  his  brand  in  a  different 
place  to  show  that  his  ownership  has  ceased,  isjn't  it? 
Seabeck  puts  his  brand  upside  down  —  " 

"  I  know  Seabeck's  vent,"  Billy  Louise  cut  in.  There 
was  no  need  of  letting  such  a  fine  fellow  display  more 
ignorance  on  the  subject.  "  And  I  should  have  no- 
ticed it  if  I  had  seen  four  calves  vented  fresh  and  not 
rebranded.  Why  in  the  world  did  n't  you  stick  your 
brand  on  at  the  same  time  ?  "  Billy  Louise  was  losing 
patience  with  his  greenness. 

"  I  did  n't  have  my  branding  iron  with  me,"  Charlie 
answered  humbly.  "  I  have  done  that  before,  when  I 
bought  those  other  cows  and  calves.  I  —  " 

"  You  'd  better  pack  your  iron,  next  time,"  she  re- 
torted. "  If  you  can't  get  a  little  bunch  of  calves 
ten  miles  without  losing  them  —  " 

"  But  you  must  understand,  I  did !  I  took  them 
home  and  turned  them  into  the  Cove.  I  know  —  I  'm 
an  awful  chump  at  this.  There  are  things  that  I  can 
do,"  he  declared  whimsically,  "  or  I  should  want  to 
kick  myself  to  death.  I  can  ladle  out  money  the  year 
round  through  a  bank  wicket  and  not  be  shy  a  cent 
at  the  end  of  the  year.  And  I  can  strike  out  man  after 
man  —  when  I  'm  in  good  form ;  why,  I  've  pitched 
whole  games  and  never  walked  a  man!  And  I  can  — 
but  what 's  the  use  ?  I  can't  drive  the  cows  up  from 
pasture,  it  seems,  without  losing  all  the  milk.  And 
I  can  make  a  little,  gray-eyed  girl  out  here  in  the 
sagebrush  look  upon  me  with  pitying  contempt  for  my 


92     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

asinine  ignorance.  Hang  it,  why  does  a  fellow  have 
to  learn  fresh  lessons  for  everything  he  undertakes  ? 
Why  can't  there  be  a  universal  course  that  fits  one  for 
every  trade  ?  " 

"  There  is,"  said  Billy  Louise  dryly.  "  You  take 
that  in  the  School  of  Experience,  don't  you  ?  " 

He  laughed  ruefully.  "  Horatio !  It  certainly  does 
cost  something,  though.  I  've  certainly  paid  enough  — 

"  In  worry,  maybe.  The  calves  may  not  be  abso- 
lutely lost,  you  know.  Why,  I  lost  a  big  steer  last 
spring  and  never  found  him  till  I  was  going  to  sell 
a  few  head.  Then  he  turned  up,  the  biggest  and  fat- 
test one  in  the  bunch.  You  can't  tell;  they  get  them- 
selves in  queer  places  sometimes.  I  '11  come  over  to- 
morrow, if  I  can,  and  take  a  look  at  that  pasture  and 
all  around.  And  I  '11  keep  a  good  looko.ut  for  the 
calves." 

Many  men  would  have  objected  to  the  unconscious 
patronage  of  her  tone.  That  Charlie  Fox  did  not,  but 
accepted  the  spirit  of  helpfulness  in  her  words,  lifted 
him  out  of  the  small-natured  class. 

"  It 's  awfully  good  of  you,"  he  said.  "  You  know 
a  lot  more  about  the  bovine  nature  than  I  do,  for  all 
I  put  in  every  spare  minute  studying  the  subject.  I  'm 
taking  four  different  stock  journals  now,  Miss  Louise. 
I  '11  bet  I  know  a  lot  more  about  the  different  strains 
of  various  breeds  than  you  do,  Miss  Cattle-queen.  But 
I  'm  beginning  to  see  that  we  only  know  what  we  learn 
by  experience.  I  've  a  new  book  on  the  subject  of 
heredity  of  the  cattle.  I  'm  going  home  and  see  if  Sea- 
beck  has  n't  stumbled  upon  a  strain  that  can  be  traced 
back  to  your  native  mountain  sheep." 


TWELVE  MONTHS  OR  SO         93 

Billy  Louise  laughed  and  said  good-by,  and  stood 
leaning  over  the  gate  watching  him  as  he  zigzagged 
up  the  hill,  stopping  his  horse  often  to  breathe.  The 
wagon  road  took  a  round-about  course,  longer  and  less 
steep.  At  the  top,  just  before  he  rounded  a  huge  pim- 
ple on  the  face  of  the  bluff,  he  stopped  and  looked 
down,  saw  her  standing  there,  and  waved  his  hat.  His 
horse  stood  sidewise  upon  the  trail  for  easier  foot- 
ing, and  the  man's  head  and  shoulders  were  silhouetted 
sharply  against  the  deep,  clear  blue  of  the  sky.  Billy 
Louise  felt  a  little,  unnamed  thrill  as  she  stared  up 
at  him.  Her  lips  curved  into  tenderness.  Clean,  frank, 
easy-natured  he  was,  as  she  had  come  to  know  him.  It 
was  like  coming  into  a  sunny  spot  to  be  with  him.  And 
then  she  sighed,  with  that  vague  feeling  of  dissatis- 
faction with  herself.  She  felt  crude  and  awkward  and 
dull  of  wit.  Her  mother,  Marthy,  Ward  —  all  the  per- 
sons she  knew  —  were  crude  and  awkward  and  ignorant 
beside  Charlie  Fox.  And  she  had  had  the  temerity, 
the  insufferable  effrontery,  to  criticize  him  and  patron- 
ize him  over  those  four  calves! 

"  He  can  strike  out  three  men  in  succession,"  she 
murmured.  "  And  he  pitched  whole  games  and  never 
walked  a  man."  She  gave  him  a  final  wave  of  the 
hand,  as  he  turned  to  climb  on  out  of  sight.  "  And  I 
don't  even  know  what  he  was  talking  about  —  though  I 
think  it  was  baseball.  And  I  was  awfully  snippy  about 
those  calves  he  lost." 

She  began  to  wonder,  then,  about  those  calves. 
Vented  and  not  rebranded,  they  would  be  easy  game  for 
any  man  who  first  got  his  own  brand  on  them.  She 
meant  to  get  a  description  of  them  when  she  saw  Char- 


94     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

lie  again  —  it  was  like  his  innocence  to  forget  the  most 
essential  details !  —  and  she  meant  to  keep  her  eyes 
open.  If  Charlie  were  right  about  the  calves  not  be- 
ing anywhere  in  the  Cove,  then  they  had  been  driven 
out  of  it,  stolen.  Billy  Louise  turned  dejectedly  away 
from  the  fence  and  went  down  to  a  shady  nook  by 
the  creek,  where  she  had  always  liked  to  do  her  wor- 
rying and  hard  thinking. 

She  stooped  and  tried  to  catch  a  baby  trout  in  her 
cupped  palms,  just  as  she  used  to  try  when  she  was 
a  child.  If  those  four  calves  were  stolen,  then  there 
was  a  "  rustler  "  in  the  country.  And  if  there  were, 
then  no  one's  stock  was  safe.  The  deduction  was  ter- 
ribly simple  and  as  exact  as  the  smallest  sum  in  addi- 
tion. And  Billy  Louise  could  not  afford  to  pay  toll  to 
a  rustler  out  of  her  forty-seven  head  of  cattle. 

The  next  day  she  rode  early  to  the  Cove  and  learned 
some  things  from  Marthy  which  she  had  not  gleaned 
from  Charlie.  She  learned  that  two  of  the  calves  were 
a  deep  red,  except  for  a  wide,  white  strip  on  the  nose 
of  one  and  white  hind  feet  on  the  other;  that  another 
was  spotted  on  the  hindquarters,  and  that  the  fourth 
was  white,  with  large,  red  blotches.  She  had  known 
cattle  all  her  life.  She  would  know  these,  if  she  saw 
them  anywhere. 

She  also  discovered  for  herself  that  they  could  not 
have  broken  out  of  that  pasture,  and  that  the  river 
bank  was  impassable,  because  of  high,  thick  bushes  and 
miry  mud  in  the  open  spaces.  She  had  a  fight  with 
Blue  over  these  latter  places  and  demonstrated  beyond 
doubt  that  they  were  miry,  by  getting  him  in  to  the 
knees  in  spite  of  his  violent  objections.  They  left  deep 


TWELVE  MONTHS  OR  SO         95 

tracks  behind  them  when  they  got  out.  The  calves  had 
not  gone  investigating  the  bank,  for  there  was  not  a 
trace  anywhere.  And  the  bluff  was  absolutely  unscal- 
able. Billy  Louise  herself  would  have  felt  doubtful  of 
climbing  out  that  way.  The  gray  rim-rock  stood 
straight  and  high  at  the  top,  with  never  a  crevice,  so 
far  as  she  could  see.  And  the  gorge  was  barred,  so 
that  it  was  impossible  to  go  that  way  without  lifting 
heavy  poles  out  of  deep  sockets  and  sliding  them  to  one 
side. 

"  I  've  got  an  idea  about  a  gate  here,"  Charlie  con- 
fided suddenly.  "  There  won't  be  any  more  mysteries 
like  this.  I  'm  going  to  fix  a  swinging  gate  in  place 
of  these  bars,  Miss  Louise.  I  shall  have  it  swing  up- 
hill, like  this ;  and  I  '11  have  a  weight  arranged  so  that 
it  will  always  close  itself,  if  one  is  careless  enough  to 
ride  on  and  leave  it  open.  I  have  it  all  worked  out 
in  my  alleged  brain.  I  shall  do  it  right  away,  too. 
Aunt  Marthy  is  rather  nervous  about  this  gorge,  now. 
Every  evening  she  walks  up  here  herself  to  make  sure 
the  bars  are  closed." 

"  You  may  as  well  make  up  your  mind  to  it,"  said 
Billy  Louise  irrelevantly,  in  a  tone  of  absolute  cer- 
tainty. "  Those  calves  were  driven  out  of  the  gorge. 
That  means  stolen.  You  need  n't  accuse  anyone  in  par- 
ticular; I  don't  suppose  you  could.  But  they  were 
stolen." 

Charlie  frowned  and  glanced  up  speculatively  at  the 
bluff's  rim. 

"  Oh,  your  mountain-sheep  theory  is  no  good,"  Billy 
Louise  giggled.  "  I  doubt  if  a  lizard,  even,  would  try 
to  leave  the  Cove  over  the  bluff."  Which  certainly  was 


96     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

a  sweeping  statement,  when  you  consider  a  lizard's 
habits.  "  A  mountain  sheep  could  n't,  anyway." 

"  They  're  hummers  to  climb  —  " 

"  But  calves  are  not,  Mr.  Fox !  Not  like  that.  You 
know  yourself  they  were  stolen ;  why  not  admit  it  ?  " 

"  Would  that  do  any  good  —  bring  them  back  ?  "  he 
countered,  looking  up  at  her. 

"  N-o,  but  I  do  hate  to  see  a  person  deliberately  shut 
his  eyes  in  front  of  a  fact.  We  may  as  well  admit  to 
ourselves  that  there  is  a  rustler  in  the  country.  Then 
we  can  look  out  for  him." 

Charlie's  eyes  had  the  troubled  look.  "  I  hate  to 
think  that.  Aunt  Martha  insists  that  is  what  we  are 
up  against,  but  —  " 

"  Well,  she  knows  more  about  it  than  you  do,  believe 
me.  If  you  '11  let  down  the  bars,  Mr.  Fox,  I  '11  hit 
the  trail.  And  if  I  find  out  anything,  I  '11  let  you 
know  at  once." 

When  she  rode  over  the  bleak  upland  she  caught  her- 
self wishing  that  she  might  talk  the  thing  over  with 
Ward.  He  would  know  just  what  ought  to  be  done. 
But  winter  was  coming,  and  she  would  drive  her  stock 
down  into  the  fields  she  had  ready.  They  would  be 
safe  there,  surely.  Still,  she  wished  Ward  would  come. 
She  wanted  to  talk  it  over  with  a  man  who  understood 
and  who  knew  more  about  such  things  than  she  did. 


CHAPTER  VII 

WARD    HUNTS    WOLVES 

THE  fate  of  the  four  heifer  calves  became  per- 
manently wrapped  in  the  blank  fog  of  mystery. 
Billy  Louise  watched  for  them  when  she  rode  out  in 
the  hills,  and  spent  a  good  deal  of  time  heretofore  given 
over  to  dreaming  in  trying  to  solve  the  riddle  of  their 
disappearance.  Charlie  Fox  insisted  upon  keeping  to 
the  theory  that  they  had  merely  strayed.  Marthy  grum- 
bled sometimes  over  the  loss,  and  Ward  —  well,  AVard 
did  not  put  in  an  appearance  again  that  fall  or  winter 
and  so  did  not  hear  of  the  incident. 

November  brought  a  long,  tiresome  storm  of  snow 
and  sleet  and  chill  winds,  which  even  the  beasts  would 
not  face,  except  when  they  were  forced.  After  that 
there  were  days  of  chilly  sunlight,  nights  of  black  frost, 
and  more  wind  and  rain  and  snow.  Each  little  ranch 
oasis  withdrew  into  itself  and  settled  down  to  pass  the 
winter  in  physical  comfort  and  mental  isolation.  Even 
Billy  Louise  seldom  rode  abroad  unless  she  was  com- 
pelled to,  which  was  not  often.  The  stage  which  passed 
through  the  Wolverine  basin  twice  a  week  left  scanty 
mail  in  the  starch-box  which  Billy  Louise  had  herself 
nailed  to  a  post  nearest  the  trail.  Now  and  then  a 
chance  traveler  pulled  thankfully  out  of  the  trail, 
stopped  for  a  warm  dinner  or  a  bed,  and  afterwards 
went  his  way.  But  from  October  until  the  hills  were 


98     RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

green,  there  was  never  a  sight  of  Ward,  and  Billy  Louise 
changed  her  mood  and  her  opinion  of  him  three  or  four 
times  a  week. 

Ward,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  had  a  very  good  reason 
for  his  absence.  He  was  working  for  a  rancher  over 
on  the  other  side  of  the  mountains,  and  when  he  got 
leave  of  absence,  it  was  merely  that  he  might  ride  to 
his  claim  and  sleep  there  a  night  in  compliance  with 
the  law,  and  see  that  nothing  was  disturbed.  He  was 
earning  forty  dollars  a  month,  which  he  could  not  af- 
ford to  jeopardize  by  any  prolonged  absence;  and  he 
was  to  take  part  of  his  pay  in  cows.  Also,  he  had  made 
arrangements  to  keep  his  few  head  of  stock  with  the 
rancher's  for  a  nominal  sum,  which  barely  saved  Ward 
from  the  humiliation  of  feeling  that  the  man  was  giv- 
ing him  something  for  nothing.  Junkins,  the  rancher, 
was  a  good  fellow,  and  he  had  a  fair  sense  of  values. 
He  knew  that  he  could  pay  Ward  these  wages  and  let 
him  winter  his  stock  there  —  I  believe  Ward  bad  seven 
or  eight  head  at  that  time  —  and  still  make  a  fair  profit 
on  his  labor.  For  Ward  stuck  to  his  work,  and  he- 
worked  fast,  with  the  drive  of  his  nervous  energy  and 
the  impatience  he  always  felt  toward  any  obstacle.  Jun- 
kins  considered  privately  that  Ward  was  giving  him 
the  work  of  two  men,  while  he  had  the  appetite  of  one. 
-So  that  it  was  to  his  interest  to  induce  Ward  to  stay 
until  ?pring  opened  and  gave  him  plenty  to  do  on  his 
own  claim ;  and  such  was  Ward's  anxiety  to  acquire 
some  property  and  a  certain  financial  security,  that  he 
put  behind  him  the  temptation  to  ride  down  to  the 
Wolverine  until  he  was  once  more  his  own  master.  He 
had  sold  his  time  to  Junkins.  He  would  not  pilfer  the 


WARD  HUNTS  WOLVES  99 

hours  it  would  take  to  ride  twenty  miles  and  back  again, 
even  to  see  Billy  Louise;  which  proves  that  he  was  no 
moral  weakling,  whatever  else  he  might  be. 

Then,  in  April,  he  left  Junkins  and  drove  home  a 
nice  little  bunch  of  ten  cows  and  a  two-year-old  and  two 
yearlings.  One  of  the  cows  had  a  week-old  calf,  and 
there  would  be  more  before  long.  Ward  sang  the  whole 
of  Cliisholm  Trail  at  the  top  of  his  voice^^s  he  drifted 
the  cattle  slowly  up  the  long  hill  to  the  top  of  the 
divide,  from  where  he  could  look  down  over  lower  hills 
into  his  own  little  creek-bottom. 

"  With  my  knees  in  the  saddle  and  my  seat  in  the  sky, 
I  '11  quit  punching  cows  in  the  sweet  by-and-by," 

he  finished  exuberantly  and  promised  himself  that  he 
would  ride  down  to  the  Wolverine  the  very  next  day 
"  and  see  how  the  folks  came  through  the  winter."  He 
wanted  to  tell  William  Louisa  that  he  was  some  cow- 
man himself,  these  days.  He  thought  he  had  made  a 
pretty  good  showing  in  the  last  twelve  months ;  for  when 
he  first  met  her,  at  the  Cedar  Creek  ford,  he  had  n't 
owned  a  hoof  except  the  four  which  belonged  to  Rattler, 
his  horse.  He  thought  that  maybe,  if  the  play  came 
right  and  he  did  n't  lose  his  nerve,  he  might  tell  Wil- 
liam Louisa  something  else !  It  seemed  to  him  that  he 
had  earned  the  right  now. 

He  rode  three  miles  oblivious  to  his  surroundings, 
while  he  went  carefully  over  his  acquaintance  —  no,  his 
friendship  —  with  Billy  Louise  and  tried  to  guess  what 
she  would  say  when  he  told  her  what  he  had  wanted  to 
tell  her  for  a  year;  what  he  had  been  hungry  to  tell 
her.  Sometimes  he  smiled  a  little,  and  sometimes  he 


100    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

looked  gloomy.  He  ended  by  hurrying  the  cattle  down 
the  canyon  so  that  he  might  ride  on  to  the  Wolverine 
that  night.  It  would  be  tough  on  Rattler,  but  then, 
what 's  a  range  cayuse  made  for,  anyway  ?  Rattler  had 
had  a  snap,  all  winter ;  he  could  stand  a  hard  deal  once, 
for  a  change.  It  would  do  the  old  skate  good  to  lift 
himself  over  fifty  miles  once  more. 

Whether  it  did  Rattler  any  good  or  not,  it  put  new 
heart  into  Ward  to  ride  down  the  bluff  and  see  the 
wink  of  the  cabin  window  once  more.  He  smiled  sud- 
denly to  himself,  threw  back  his  shoulders,  and  lifted 
up  his  voice  in  the  doggerel  that  had  come  to  be  a  sort 
of  bond  between  the  two. 

"  I  'm  on  my  best  horse  and  a-comin'  on  the  run, 
Best  blamed  cowboy  that  ever  pulled  a  gun," 

he  shouted  gleefully.  A  yellow  square  opened  in  the 
cabin's  side,  and  a  figure  stood  outlined  against  the 
shining  background.  Ward  laughed  happily. 

"  Coma  ti  yi  youpy,  youpy-a,  youpy-a,"  he  sang  up- 
roariously. 

Billy  Louise  turned  her  head  toward  the  interior 
of  the  cabin  and  then  left  the  light  and  merged  into  the 
darkness  without.  Ward  risked  a  broken  neck  and 
went  down  the  last  bit  of  slope  as  if  he  were  trying 
to  head  a  steer.  By  the  time  he  galloped  up  to  the  gate, 
Billy  Louise  was  leaning  over  it.  He  could  see  her 
form  dimly  there. 

"  'Lo,  Bill,"  he  said  softly  and  slid  out  of  the  saddle 
and  went  up  to  her.  "  How  you  was,  already  ?  "  Again 
his  voice  was  like  a  kiss. 

"  'Lo,  Ward!"   (in  a  tone  that  returned  the  kiss). 


WARD  HUNTS  WOLVES          101 

"  Don't  know  whether  the  stopping  's  good  to-night  or 
not.  We  've  quit  taking  in  tramps.  Where  the  dick- 
ens have  you  been  for  the  last  ten  years  ?  "  And  that, 
on  top  of  a  firm  conviction  in  Billy's  Louise's  mind 
that  she  did  not  care  whether  Ward  ever  crossed  her 
trail  again,  and  that  when  he  did,  he  would  have  to  do 
a  lot  of  explaining  before  she  would  thaw  to  anything 
approaching  friendliness.  Oh,  well,  we  all  change  our 
minds  sometimes. 

"  I  felt  like  it  was  twenty,"  Ward  affirmed.  "  Ho 
I  get  any  supper,  William?  I  like  to  have  ridden  my 
horse  to  a  standstill  getting  here  to-night;  know  that? 
I  hope  you  appreciate  the  fact." 

"  It 's  a  wonder  you  would  n't  have  started  a  lit- 
tle sooner,  then,"  Billy  Louise  retorted.  "  Along  about 
Christmas,  for  instance." 

"  Was  n't  my  fault  I  did  n't,  William.  Think  I  Ve 
got  nothing  to  do  but  chase  around  the  country  calling 
on  young  ladies  ?  I  've  been  a  wage  slave,  Bill-Loo. 
Come  on  while  I  put  up  my  horse.  Poor  devil,  I  drove 
cattle  from  Junkins'  place  with  him,  and  they  were  n't 
what  you  could  call  trail-broke,  either.  And  then  I 
came  on  down  here.  I  've  been  in  the .  saddle  since 
daylight,  young  lady ;  and  Rattler  's  been  under  it." 

"  Well,  I  'm  very  sure  that  it  is  not  my  fault,"  Billy 
Louise  disclaimed,  as  she  walked  beside  him  to  the 
stable. 

"  I  'm  not  so  sure  of  that !  I  might  produce  some 
pretty  strong  evidence  that  the  last  twenty  miles  is 
your  fault.  Say,  you  did  n't  know  I  've  gone  into  the 
cow  business  myself,  did  you,  William  ?  I  Ve  been 
working  like  one  son-of-a-gun  all  fall  and  winter,  and 


102    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

I  'm  in  the  cattle-king  class  —  to  the  extent  of  twelve 
head.  I  knew  you  were  crazy  to  hear  the  glad  tidings, 
so  I  tried  to  kill  off  a  horse  to  get  here  and  tell  you. 
You  and  me  '11  be  running  a  wagon  and  full  crew  in 
another  year,  don't  you  reckon?  And  send  reps  over 
into  Wyoming  and  around,  to  look  after  our  interests !  " 
He  laughed  at  himself  with  a  perfect  understanding 
of  his  own  insignificance  as  a  cattle-owner,  and  Billy 
Louise  laughed  with  him,  though  not  at  him,  for  it 
seemed  to  her  that  Ward  had  done  well,  considering 
his  small  opportunities. 

To  be  sure,  in  these  days  when  civilization  travels 
by  million-dollar  milestones,  and  the  hero  of  a  ten- 
dollar  story  scorns  any  enterprise  which  requires  less 
than  five  figures  to  name  its  profits,  Ward  and  Billy 
Louise  and  Charlie  Fox  —  and  all  their  neighbors  — 
do  not  amount  to  much.  But  it  is  a  fact  that  real 
men  and  women  in  the  real  world  beyond  the  horizon 
work  hard  and  fight  real  battles  for  a  very  small  suc- 
cess compared  with  Big  Interests  and  the  modern  story- 
man.  And  I  'm  telling  you  of  some  real  people  in 
a  real  world  out  in  the  sagebrush  country,  where  not 
even  a  story  hero  may  consistently  become  a  million- 
aire in  ten  chapters.  There  is  no  millionaire  material 
in  the  sagebrush  country,  you  know,  unless  it  is  planted 
there  by  the  Big  Interests;  and  the  Big  Interests  do 
not  plant  in  barren  soil.  So  if  twelve  head  of  cattle 
look  too  trifling  to  mention,  I  can't  help  it.  Ward 
worked  mighty  hard  for  those  few  animals,  and  saved 
and  schemed,  and  denied  himself  much  pleasure.  There- 
fore, he  did  as  well  as  any  man  under  the  circumstances 
could  do  and  be  honest. 


WARD  HUNTS  WOLVES          103 

Pie  did  not  do  so  very  well  when  it  came  to  telling 
Billy  Louise  something.  Twice  during  his  visit  he 
had  to  admit  to  himself  that  the  play  came  right 
to  tell  her.  And  both  times  Ward  shied  like  a  horse 
in  the  moonlight.  For  all  that  he  sang  about  half  the 
way  home,  the  next  day,  and  for  the  rest  of  the  way 
he  built  castles;  which  proves  that  his  visit  ha'd  not 
been  disappointing. 

He  rode  out  into  the  pasture  where  his  cattle  were 
grazing  and  sat  looking  at  them  while  he  smoked  a 
cigarette.  And  while  he  smoked,  that  small  herd  grew 
and  multiplied  before  the  eyes  of  his  imagination,  until 
he  needed  a  full  crew  of  riders  to  take  care  of  them. 
He  shipped  a  trainload  of  beef  to  Chicago  before  he 
threw  away  the  cigarette  stub,  and  he  laughed  to  him- 
self when  he  rode  back  to  the  log  cabin  in  the  grove 
of  quaking  aspens. 

"  I  'm  getting  my  money's  worth  out  of  that  bunch, 
just  in  the  fun  of  planning  ahead/'  he  realized,  while 
he  whittled  shavings  from  the  edge  of  a  cracker-box 
to  start  his  supper  fire.  "  A  few  cows  and  calves  make 
the  best  day-dream  material  I  've  struck  yet ;  wish  I 
had  more  of  the  same.  I  'd  make  old  Dame  Fortune 
put  a  different  brand  on  me,  pronto.  She  could  spell 
it  with  an  F,  but  it  would  n't  be  football.  If  the  cards 
fall  right,"  he  mused,  when  the  fire  was  hot  and  crack- 
ling, and  he  was  slicing  bacon  with  his  pocket-knife, 
"  I  '11  get  the  best  of  her  yet.  And  —  "  His  coffee- 
pail  boiled  over  and  interrupted  him.  He  burned  his 
fingers  before  he  slid  the  pail  to  a  cooler  spot,  and 
after  that  he  thought  of  the  joys  of  having  a  certain 


104    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

gray-eyed  girl  for  his  housekeeper,  and  for  a  time  he 
forgot  about  his  newly  acquired  herd. 

And  then  his  day-dreams  received  a  severer  jolt,  and 
one  more  lasting.  He  began  to  realize  something  that 
he  had  always  known:  that  there  is  something  more  to 
the  cattle  business  than  branding  the  calves  and  sell- 
ing the  beef. 

When  the  first  calf  went  to  dull  the  hunger  of  the 
wolves  that  howled  o'nights  among  the  rocks  and  stunted 
pines  on  Bannock  Butte,  Ward  swore  a  good  deal  and 
resolved  to  ride  with  his  rifle  tied  on  the  saddle  here- 
after. Also,  he  went  back  immediately,  got  a  little 
fat,  blue  bottle  of  strychnine,  and  returned  and  "  salted  " 
the  small  remnant  of  the  carcass.  It  was  no  part  of  his 
dreams  to  have  the  profit  chewed  off  his  little  herd 
by  wolves. 

When  the  second  calf  was  pulled  down  in  spite  of 
the  mother's  defense,  within  half  a  mile  of  his  cabin, 
Ward  postponed  a  trip  he  had  meant  to  make  to  the 
Wolverine  and  went  out  on  the  trail  of  the  wolves.  In 
the  loose  soil  of  the  lower  ridge  he  tracked  them  easily 
and  rode  at  a  shuffling  trot  along  the  cow-trail  they 
had  followed,  his  eyes  keen  for  some  further  sign  of 
them.  He  guessed  that  there  would  be  at  least  one 
den  farther  up  in  the  gulch  that  opened  out  ahead,  and 
if  he  could  find  it  and  get  the  pups  —  well,  the  bounty 
on  one  litter  would  even  his  loss,  even  if  he  were  not 
lucky  enough  to  get  one  of  the  old  ones.  He  had  a 
shovel  tied  to  the  saddle  under  his  left  leg,  to  use  in 
case  he  found  a  den. 

So,  planning  a  crusade  against  these  enemies  to  his 
enterprise,  he  picked  his  way  slowly  up  the  side  of 


WARD  HUNTS  WOLVES          105 

the  deep  gully  that  had  a  little  stream  wandering 
through  rocks  at  the  bottom.  His  eyes,  that  Billy 
Louise  had  found  so  quick  and  keen,  noted  every  little 
jutting  shelf  of  rock,  every  badger  hole,  every  bush. 
It  looked  like  a  good  place  for  dens  of  wolf  or  coyote. 
And  with  the  sun  shining  down  warm  on  his  shoul- 
ders, and  the  meadow  larks  singing  from  swaying, 
weeds,  and  rabbits  scuttling  away  through  the  rocks 
now  and  then,  Ward  began  to  forget  the  ill-luck  that 
had  brought  him  out  and  to  enjoy  the  hunt  for  its  own 
sake. 

Farther  along  there  were  so  many  places  that  would 
bear  investigation  that  he  left  Rattler  on  a  level  spot, 
and  with  his  rifle  and  six-shooter,  went  forward  on 
foot,  climbing  over  ledges  of  rock,  forcing  his  way 
through  green-budded,  wild-rose  bushes  or  sliding  down 
loose,  gravelly  slopes. 

One  place  —  a  tiny  cave  under  a  huge  bowlder  — 
looked  promising.  There  were  wolf  tracks  going  in 
and  out,  plenty  of  them.  But  there  were  no  bones  or 
offal  anywhere  around,  and  Ward  decided  that  it  was 
not  a  family  residence,  but  that  the  wolves  had  per- 
haps invaded  the  nest  of  some  other  animal.  He  went 
on  hopefully.  That  side  of  the  gulch  was  cobwebbed 
with  tracks. 

Then,  quite  accidentally,  he  glanced  across  to  the 
far  side,  his  eyes  attracted  to  something  which  had 
moved.  He  could  see  nothing  at  first,  though  from  the 
corner  of  his  eye  he  had  ^certainly  caught  a  flicker  of 
movement  over  there.  Yellow  sand,  gray  rocks  and 
bushes,  and  above  a  curlew  circling,  with  long  beak 
outstretched  before,  and  long,  red  legs  stretched  out 


106    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

behind.  He  almost  believed  he  had  but  caught  the 
swift  passing  of  a  cloud  shadow  over  there  and  was  on 
the  point  of  climbing  farther  up  his  own  slope,  to  where 
a  yawning  hole  in  the  hill  showed  signs  of  being  pawed 
and  trampled.  Then  an  outline  slowly  defined  itself 
among  a  jumble  of  rocks ;  head,  sloping  back,  two  points 
for  ears.  It  might  be  a  rock,  but  it  began  to  look  more 
and  more  like  a  wolf  sitting  up  on  its  haunches  watch- 
ing him  fixedly. 

Even  while  Ward  lifted  his  rifle  and  got  the  ivory 
bead  snugly  fitted  into  the  notch  of  the  rear  sight  with 
his  eye,  he  would  not  have  bet  two-bits  that  he  was 
aiming  at  an  animal.  He  pulled  the  trigger  with  a 
steady  crooking  of  his  forefinger  and  the  whole  gulch 
clamored  with  the  noise.  The  object  over  there  leaped 
high,  came  down  heavily,  and  rolled  ten  feet  down  the 
hill  to  another  level,  where  it  bounded  three  or  four 
times  convulsively,  slid  a  few  feet  farther,  and  lay 
still  behind  a  bush. 

"  Got  you  that  time,  you  old  Turk,  if  you  did  nearly 
fool  me  playing  you  were  part  of  the  scenery."  Ward 
slid  recklessly  down  to  the  bottom,  sought  a  narrow 
place,  jumped  the  creek,  and  climbed  exultantly  to 
where  the  wolf  lay  twisted  on  its  back,  its  eyes  half 
open  and  glazed,  its  jaws  parted  in  a  sardonic  grin. 
Ward  grinned  also  as  he  looked  at  it.  He  gave  the 
carcass  a  poke  with  his  boot-toe  and  glanced  up  the 
hill  toward  the  rocks. 

"  Maybe  you  were  playing  lookout  for  the  bunch," 
he  said,  "  and  then  again,  maybe  jou  ain't  hooked  up 
with  a  family ;  though  from  the  looks,  you  ain't  weaned 
your  pups  yet  —  till  just  now."  Leaving  the  wolf  where 


WARD  HUNTS  WOLVES          107 

she  lay,  he  climbed  to  the  rocks  where  he  had  first 
seen  her.  They  lay  high  piled,  but  he  could  see  day- 
light through  every  open  space  and  so  knew  there  was 
no  den.  The  base  rested  solidly  on  the  yellow  earth. 

Ward  stood  and  looked  at  the  slope  below.  To  the 
right  and  half-way  down  was  a  ten-foot  ledge,  and  be- 
low that  outcropped  a  steep  bank  of  earth.  He  could 
not  see  what  lay  immediately  below,  but  while  he  was 
still  staring,  a  pointed,  gray  nose  topped  by  pert,  gray 
ears  poked  cautiously  over  the  bank,  hovered  there 
sniffing,  and  dropped  back  out  of  sight. 

"  You  little  son-of-a-gun !  "  he  exclaimed  and  dug  in 
his  heels  on  the  sharp  descent.  "  I  Ve  got  you  right 
where  I  want  you,  now." 

The  den  was  tunneled  into  the  earth  just  over  an- 
other ledge,  which  underlay  the  bank  there,  and  gave 
a  sheer  drop  of  ten  or  fifteen  feet  to  the  slope  below, 
where  a  thick  fringe  of  blossoming  cherry  bushes  grew 
close  and  hid  the  ledge  so  completely  that  the  den  had 
been  perfectly  concealed  from  across  the  gulch.  It 
was  a  case  where  the  shovel  was  needed.  Ward 
"  flagged  "  the  den  by  throwing  his  coat  down  before 
the  opening  and  went  back  to  where  Rattler  waited. 
He  was  jubilant  over  his  good  luck.  With  an  average 
litter  of  pups,  and  the  old  wolf  besides,  the  bounty 
would  make  those  two  calves  the  most  profitable  ani- 
mals in  the  bunch,  reckoned  on  the  basis  of  money  in- 
vested in  them. 

With  the  shovel  he  enlarged  the  tunnel,  and  between 
strokes  he  heard  the  whimpering  of  the  pups.  The 
sound  sobered  his  face  to  a  pitying  determination.  Poor 
little  devils,  it  was  not  their  fault  that  they  were  born 


108    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

to  be  a  menace  rather  than  a  help  to  mankind.  He  was 
sorry  for  their  terror,  while  he  dug  back  to  where  they 
huddled  against  the  farthest  wall  of  their  nest.  He 
worked  fast  that  he  might  the  sooner  end  their  discom- 
fort, and  his  forehead  was  puckered  into  a  frown  at 
the  harsh  law  of  life  that  it  must  preserve  its  exist- 
ence at  the  expense  of  some  other  life.  Yet  he  dug 
back  and  back,  burrowing  into  the  bank  toward  the 
whimpering.  It  was  farther  than  he  had  thought,  but 
the  soil  was  a  loose  sand  and  gravel,  and  he  made  good 
headway. 

Then,  laying  down  his  shovel,  he  reached  into  a  hys- 
terical squirm  of  soft  hair  and  sharp  little  teeth  that 
snapped  at  his  gloved  hand.  One  by  one  he  hauled 
them  out,  whining,  biting,  struggling  like  the  little  sav- 
ages they  were.  One  by  one  he  sent  them  into  oblivion 
with  a  sharp  tap  of  the  shovel.  There  were  eight,  just 
big  enough  to  make  little,  investigative  trips  outside 
the  den  when  all  was  quiet.  Ward  was  glad  he  had 
found  them  and  wiped  them  out  of  existence,  but  it 
had  not  been  pleasant  work. 

He  wiped  the  perspiration  off  his  face  with  his  hand- 
kerchief, pushed  his  hat  to  the  back  of  his  head,  and 
sat  down  on  the  ledge  beside  the  pile  of  dirt  he  had 
thrown  out.  He  felt  the  need  of  a  smoke,  after  all 
that  exertion. 

It  was  while  he  was  smoking  and  resting  that  he 
first  became  conscious  of  the  pile  of  dirt  as  something 
more  than  the  obstacle  between  himself  and  the  wolf- 
pups.  He  blew  a  little  cloud  of  smoke  from  his  mouth, 
leaned  and  lifted  a  handful  of  sand,  picked  something 
out  of  it,  and  looked  at  it  intently.  He  said  "  Humph !  " 


WARD  HUNTS  WOLVES          109 

skeptically.  Then  he  turned  his  head  and  stared  at 
the  ledge  above  and  to  the  right  of  him,  twisted  half 
around  and  scanned  the  steep  slope  immediately  above 
the  earth  bank,  and  then  looked  at  the  gulch  beneath 
him.  He  took  his  cigarette  from  his  lips,  said,  "  Well, 
I  '11  be  darned !  "  and  put  it  back  again.  With  his  fore- 
finger he  turned  over  a  small,  rusty  lump  the  size  of 
a  pea,  wiped  it  upon  his  sleeve,  and  bent  over  it  eagerly, 
holding  it  so  that  the  light  struck  it  revealingly.  His 
face  glowed.  Save  the  want  of  tenderness  in  his  eyes, 
he  looked  as  though  Billy  Louise  stood  before  him ;  the 
same  guarded  gladness,  the  same  intent  eagerness. 

Ward  sprawled  over  that  pile  of  gravel  and  sand 
and  searched  with  his  fingers,  as  young  girls  search 
a  thick  bank  of  clover  for  the  magic  four  leaves.  He 
found  one  other  small  lump  that  he  kept,  but  beyond 
that  his  search  was  barren  of  result.  Still,  that  glow 
remained  in  his  face.  Finally  he  roused  himself  as 
though  he  realized  that  he  was  behaving  foolishly.  He 
made  himself  another  cigarette  and  smoked  it  fast, 
keeping  pace  with  his  shuttling  thoughts.  And  by  the 
time  the  paper  tube  was  burned  down  to  an  inch-long 
stub,  he  had  won  back  his  manner  of  imperturbable 
calm;  only  his  eyes  betrayed  a  hidden  excitement. 

"  Looks  like  there  's  money  in  wolves,"  he  said  aloud 
and  laughed  a  little.  "  Old  Lady  Fortune,  you  want 
to  watch  out,  or  I  'm  liable  to  get  the  best  of  you  yet ! 
Looks  like  I  Ve  got  a  hand  to  draw  to,  now.  Youp- 
ee-ee  I "  His  forced  imperturbability  exploded  in  the 
yell,  and  after  that  he  moved  briskly. 

"  I've  got  to  play  safe  on  this,"  he  warned  himself, 
while  he  scalped  the  last  of  the  pups.  "  No  use  getting 


110    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

rattled.  If  she  's  good  as  she  looks,  she  's  fine.  She  '11 
help  boost  my  little  bunch  of  cattle,  and  that 's  all  I 
want.  I  ain't  going  to  go  hog-wild  over  it,  like  so 
many  do." 

He  went  over  and  skinned  the  mother  wolf,  and  with 
the  pelts  in  a  strong-smelling  bundle,  returned  to  the 
sand  pile  and  filled  his  neckerchief  as  full  as  he  could 
tie  it.  Then  he  went  down  into  the  gulch,  jumped  the 
creek  with  his  load  —  and  got  a  foot  wet  where  his 
boot  leaked  along  the  sole  —  and  climbed  hurriedly  up 
to  where  Rattler  waited  and  dozed  in  the  sunshine, 
with  the  reins  dropped  to  the  ground. 

Rattler  objected  to  those  fresh  wolf-skins,  and  Ward 
lifted  a  disciplinary  boot-toe  to  his  ribs.  His  mood 
did  not  accept  patiently  any  unnecessary  delay  in  get- 
ting home,  and  he  succeeded  in  making  Rattler  aware 
of  his  mood.  Rattler  laid  back  his  ears  and  took  the 
trail  in  long,  rabbit-jumps  for  spite,  risking  his  own 
and  his  master's  bones  unchecked  and  unchided.  The 
pace  pleased  Ward,  and  to  the  risk  he  gave  no  thought. 
He  was  reconstructing  his  air-castles  on  broader  lines 
and  smiling  now  and  then  to  himself. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

HELP    FOR    THE    COW    BUSINESS 

HE  had  no  goldpan  of  his  own,  since  this  was  not 
a  mining  country,  and  his  ambition  had  run  in 
a  different  channel.  He,  therefore,  took  the  tin  wash- 
basin down  to  the  cre^k  and  dumped  the  sand  into  it. 
Then,  squatting  on  his  boot-heels  at  the  edge  of  the 
stream,  he  filled  the  basin  with  water  and  rocked  it 
gently  with  a  rotary  motion  that  proved  him  no  novice 
at  the  work.  His  eyes  were  sharper  and  more  intent 
in  their  gaze  than  Billy  Louise  had  ever  seen  them, 
and,  though  his  movements  were  unhurried,  they  were 
full  of  eagerness  held  in  leash. 

Several  times  he  refilled  the  basin,  and  the  amount 
of  sand  grew  less  and  less,  until  there  remained  only 
a  few  spoonfuls  of  coarse  gravel  and  a  sediment  that 
clung  to  the  bottom  of  the  basin  and  moved  sluggishly 
around  and  around.  He  picked  out  the  tiny  pebbles 
one  by  one  and  threw  them  in  the  creek.  He  peered 
sharply  at  a  small  bit  and  held  it  in  his  fingers,  while 
he  bent  his  face  close  to  the  pan,  his  eyes  two  gimlets 
boring  into  the  contents. 

He  got  up  stiffly,  backed,  and  sat  down  upon  the  low 
bank  with  his  feet  far  apart  and  his  shoulders  bent, 
while  he  stared  at  the  little  bit  of  mineral  in  his 
fingers. 

"  Coarse  gold,  and  not  such  a  hell  of  a  lot,"  he  pro- 


112    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

nounced  to  himself  with  careful  impartiality.  "  But 
it 's  pay  dirt,  and  if  there  's  enough  of  it,  it  '11  help 
a  lot  at  this  end  of  the  cow  business."  He  sat  there 
a  long  time,  thinking  and  planning  and  holding  him- 
self sternly  to  cold  reality,  rejecting  every  possibility 
that  had  the  slightest  symptom  of  being  an  air-castle. 
He  did  not  intend  to  let  this  thing  turn  his  head  or  be- 
tray him  into  any  foolishness  whatsoever.  He  was 
going  to  look  at  the  thing  cold-bloodedly  and  put  his 
imagination  in  cold  storage  for  the  present. 

His  first  impulse  —  to  ride  straight  to  ihe  Wolverine 
and  show  Billy  Louise  these  three  tiny  nuggets  —  he 
rejected  as  a  bit  of  foolishness.  He  was  perfectly  will- 
ing to  trust  Billy  Louise  with  any  secret  he  possessed, 
but  he  knew  that  he  would  be  feeding  her  imagination 
with  dangerous  fuel.  She  would  begin  dreaming  and 
building  castles  and  prospecting  for  herself,  very  likely ; 
and  that  trail  led  oftenest  to  black  disappointment.  If 
he  made  good,  he  would  tell  her  —  when  he  told  her 
something  else.  And  if  the  whole  thing  were  just  a 
fluke,  a  stray  deposit  of  a  little  gold  that  did  not  amount 
to  anything,  then  it  would  be  best  for  her  to  know 
nothing  about  it.  Ward  felt  in  himself,  at  that  mo- 
ment, the  keen  foretaste  of  bitter  disappointment  which 
would  follow  such  a  certainty.  He  did  not  want  Billy 
Louise  exposed  to  that  pain. 

He  would  tell  her  about  the  wolves,  of  course.  It 
was  pretty  hard  not  to  tell  her  everything  that  con- 
cerned himself,  but  the  streak  of  native  reticence  in 
his  nature  had  been  strengthened  by  the  vicissitudes 
of  the  life  he  had  lived.  While  Billy  Louise  had  found 
the  sole  weak  point  which  made  that  reticence  scarcely 


HELP  FOR  THE  COW  BUSINESS     113 

a  barrier  to  full  confidence,  still  he  knew  that  he  would 
keep  this  from  her  if  he  made  up  his  mind  to  it. 

He  would  not  tell  anybody.  He  raised  his  head 
and  looked  at  the  hills  where  his  cattle  would  feed, 
and  pictured  it  cluttered  with  gold-hunters,  greedy,  un- 
desirable interlopers  doomed  to  disappointment-  in  the 
long  run.  Ward  had  seen  the  gold  fever  sweep  through 
a  community  and  spoil  life  for  the  weak  ones  who  took 
to  chasing  the  will-o'-the-wisp  of  sudden  wealth.  Tramps 
of  the  pick-and-pan  brigade  —  they  should  not  come 
swarming  into  these  hills  on  any  wild-goose  chase,  if 
he  could  help  it.  And  he  could  and  should.  This 
was  not,  properly  speaking,  a  gold  country.  He  knew 
it.  The  rock  formations  did  not  point  to  any  great 
deposit  of  the  mineral,  and  if  he  had  found  one,  it 
was  a  fluke,  an  accident.  He  resolved  that  his  first 
consideration  should  be  the  keeping  of  his  secret  for 
the  mental  well-being  of  his  fellows. 

Ward  did  not  put  it  quite  so  altruistically.  His 
thoughts  formed  into  sentences. 

"  This  is  cattle  country.  If  men  want  to  hunt  gold, 
they  can  do  their  hunting  somewhere  else.  They  can't 
go  digging  up  the  whole  blamed  country  just  on  the 
chance  of  finding  another  pocket  like  this  one.  I  'm 
in  the  cattle  business  myself.  If  I  find  any  gold,  it  '11 
go  into  cattle  and  stay  there;  and  there  won't  be  any 
long-haired  freaks  pestering  around  here  if  I  can  help 
it,  and  I  reckon  maybe  I  can,  all  right. 

"  I  'd  sure  like  to  talk  it  over  with  Billy,  but  what 
she  don't  know  won't  worry  her ;  and  I  don't  know  yet 
what  I  've  gone  up  against.  Maybe  old  Dame  For- 
tune 's  just  played  another  joke  on  me  —  played  me 


114    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

for  a  fool  again.  I  '11  take  a  chance,  but  I  won't  give 
that  little  girl  down  below  there  anything  to  spoil  her 
sleep." 

Ward's  memory  was  like  glue,  and  while  it ,  held 
things  he  would  give  much  to  forget,  still  it  served 
him  well.  He  had  ridden  past  a  tiny,  partly  caved-in 
dugout,  months  ago,  where  some  wandering  prospector 
had  camped  while  he  braved  the  barrenness  of  the  hills 
and  streams  hereabout.  Ward  had  dismounted  and 
glanced  into  the  cavelike  hut.  ISTow,  after  he  had  eaten 
a  few  mouthfuls  of  dinner,  he  rode  straight  over  to 
that  dugout  and  got  the  goldpan  he  remembered  to 
have  seen  there.  It  was  not  in  the  best  condition,  of 
course.  It  was  battered  and  bent,  but  it  would  do  for 
the  present. 

By  the  time  he  reached  the  wolf  den,  the  sun  was 
nearing  the  western  rim  of  hills,  but  Ward  had  time 
to  examine  the  locality  more  carefully  than  he  had 
done  at  first  and  to  wash  a  couple  of  pans  of  gravel. 
The  test  elated  him  perceptibly;  for  while  there  did 
not  seem  to  be  the  makings  of  a  millionaire  in  that 
gravel  bank,  he  judged  roughly  that  he  could  make  a 
plumber's  wages  if  he  worked  hard  enough  —  and  that 
looked  pretty  good  to  a  fellow  who  had  worked  all  his 
life  for  forty  dollars  a  month.  "  Two-bits  a  pan,  just 
about,"  he  put  it  to  himself.  "  And  I  '11  have  to  pack 
the  dirt  down  here  to  the  creek ;  but  I  '11  dig  a  nice 
little  bunch  of  cattle  out  of  that  gravel  bank  before 
snow  flies,  or  I  miss  my  guess  a  mile." 

As  nearly  as  he  could  figure,  he  had  chanced  upon 
a  split  channel.  For  ages,  he  judged,  the  water  had 
run  upon  that  ledge,  leaving  the  streak  of  gravel  and 


HELP  FOR  THE  COW  BUSINESS     115 

what  little  gold  it  had  carried  down  from  the  mountains. 
Then  some  freshet  had  worn  over  the  edge  of  the  break 
in  the  rock  until  the  ledge  and  its  deposit  was  left  high 
and  dry  on  the  side  of  the  gulch,  while  the  creek  flowed 
through  the  gully  it  had  formed  below.  It  might  not 
be  the  correct  explanation,  but  it  satisfied  Ward  and 
encouraged  him  to  believe  that  the  streak  of  pay  gravel 
lay  along  the  ledge  within  easy  reach. 

He  tried  to  trace  the  ledge  up  and  down  the  gulch 
and  to  estimate  the  probable  extent  of  that  pay  streak. 
Then  he  gave  it  up  in  self-defense.  "  I  've  got  to  watch 
my  dodgers,"  he  admonished  himself,  "  or  I  '11  go  plumb 
loco  and  imagine  I  'm  a  millionaire.  I  '11  pan  what 
I  can  get  at  and  let  it  go  at  that.  And  I  Ve  got  to 
count  what  gold  shows  up  in  the  sack  —  and  no  more. 
Good  Lord !  I  can't  afford  to  make  a  fool  of  myself 
at  this  stage  of  the  game !  I  've  got  to  sit  right  down 
on  my  imagination  and  stick  to  hard-boiled  facts." 

He  went  home  in  a  very  good  humor  with  himself 
and  the  world,  for  all  that.  So  far  as  he  could  see, 
the  thing  that  had  been  bothering  him  was  settled  most 
satisfactorily.  He  had  wanted  to  spend  the  summer 
on  his  claim,  making  improvements  and  watching  over 
his  cattle.  There  was  fence  to  build  and  some  hay 
to  cut;  and  he  would  like  to  build  another  room  on  to 
the  cabin.  "Ward  had  certain  fastidious  instincts,  and 
he  rebelled  inwardly  at  eating,  sleeping,  and  cooking 
all  in  one  small  room.  But  he  had  not  been  able  to 
solve  the  problem  of  earning  a  living  while  he  did  all 
this  —  to  say  nothing  of  buying  supplies.  And  he 
really  needed  a  team  and  tools,  if  he  meant  to  put  up 
any  hay. 


116    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Now,  with  that  pay  gravel  within  reach,  and  the  gold 
running  twenty-five  cents  to  the  pan,  and  the  occa- 
sional tiny  nuggets  jumping  up  the  yield  now  and  then, 
he  could  go  ahead  and  do  the  things  he  wanted  to  do. 
And  he  could  dream  about  having  a  certain  gray-eyed 
girl  for  his  wife,  without  calling  himself  names  after- 
ward. 

So  he  set  to  work  the  next  morning  in  dead  earnest 
with  pick,  shovel,  and  pan,  to  make  the  most  of  his 
little  find.  He  shoveled  the  dirt  and  gravel  into  a 
gunny  sack,  threw  the  sack  as  far  as  he  could  over 
the  ledge  at  the  end,  where  it  was  not  hidden  and  clut- 
tered with  the  cherry-trees  and  service  berries  below, 
and  when  it  stopped  rolling,  he  carried  it  the  rest 
of  the  way.  Then  he  panned  it  in  the  little  creek, 
watching  like  a  hawk  for  nuggets  and  the  finer  gold. 
It  was  back-breaking  work,  and  he  felt  that  he  earned 
every  cent  he  got.  But  the  cents  were  there,  in  good 
gold,  and  he  was  perfectly  willing  to  work  for  what 
he  received  in  this  world. 

After  a  couple  of  weeks  he  stopped  long  enough  to 
make  a  hurried  trip  to  Hardup,  a  little  town  forty 
miles  farther  up  in  the  hills.  In  the  little  bank  there 
he  exchanged  his  gold  harvest  for  coin  of  the  realm, 
and  he  was  well  satisfied  with  the  result.  It  was  not 
a  fortune,  nor  was  he  likely  to  find  one  in  the  hills. 
But  he  bought  a  team,  wagon,  and  harness  with  the 
money,  and  he  had  enough  left  over  for  a /two-months' 
grubstake  and  plenty  of  Durham  and  papers  and  a  few 
magazines.  That  left  him  just  enough  silver  to  pay 
Rattler's  bill  at  the  livery  stable.  Nothing  startling, 
but  still  not  bad  —  that  wolf-den  find. 


HELP  FOR  THE  COW  BUSINESS     117 

He  had  a  lot  of  trouble  getting  his  wagon  to  his 
claim,  but  by  judicious  driving  and  the  liberal  use 
of  a  log-chain  for  a  rough  lock,  he  managed  to  land  the 
whole  outfit  in  the  little  flat  before  the  cabin  without 
any  mishap.  After  that  he  settled  down  to  work  the 
thing  systematically. 

One  day  he  would  pan  the  sandy  gravel,  and  the  next 
day  he  would  rest  his  back  digging  post-holes  or  some- 
thing comparatively  easy.  He  worked  from  daybreak 
until  it  was  too  dark  to  see,  and  he  never  left  his  claim- 
except  when  he  went  to  wash  gold  up  in  the  gulch. 
The  world  moved  on,  and  he  neither  knew  nor  cared 
how  it  moved;  for  the  time  being  his  world  had  nar- 
rowed amazingly.  If  Billy  Louise  had  not  been  down 
there  in  that  other  world,  he  would  scarcely  have  given 
it  a  thought,  so  absorbed  was  he  in  the  delightful  task 
of  putting  a  good,  solid  foundation  under  his  favorite 
air-castle.  That  fascinated  him,  held  him  to  his  work 
in  spite  of  his  hunger  to  see  her  and  talk  with  her  and 
watch  the  changing  lights  in  her  eyes  and  the  fleeting 
expressions  of  her  face. 

Some  day  he  hoped  he  would  have  her  with  him 
always.  He  put  it  stronger  than  that:  Some  day  he 
would  have  her  with  him,  there  in  that  little  valley  he 
had  chosen ;  riding  with  him  over  those  hills  that  smiled 
and  seemed  to  stand  there  waiting  for  their  invasions, 
with  the  echoes  ready  to  fling  back  his  exultant  voice 
when  he  called  to  her  or  sang  for  her  or  laughed  at 
her;  ready  to  imitate  enviously  her  voice  when  she 
laughed  back  at  him.  He  wanted  that  day  to  come 
soon,  and  so  with  days  and  hours  and  minutes  he  be- 
came a  miser  and  would  not  spend  them  in  the  luxury 


118    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

of  a  visit  to  her.  It  seemed  to  him  that  his  longing 
for  her  measured  itself  hy  the  enormous  appetite  he 
had  for  work,  that  summer. 

Week  followed  week  as  he  followed  that  thin,  fluc- 
tuating streak  of  pay  gravel  along  the  ledge.  Some- 
times it  was  rich  enough  to  set  the  pulse  pounding  in 
his  temples ;  sometimes  it  was  so  poor  that  he  was  dis- 
gusted to  the  point  of  abandoning  the  work.  But  every 
day  he  worked,  it  yielded  him  something  —  though 
there  was  a  week  when  he  averaged  ahout  fifty  cents  a 
day  and  lived  with  a  scowl  on  his  face  —  and  lie  kept 
at  it. 

He  went  out  in  June  and  bought  a  mower  and  rake 
and  then  spent  precious  days  getting  them  into  his  val- 
ley. There  was  no  road,  you  see,  and  he  was  compelled 
to  haul  them  in  a  wagon,  through  country  where  na- 
ture never  meant  four  wheels  to- pass.  He  hired  a  man 
for  a  month  —  one  of  those  migratory  individuals  who 
works  for  a  week  or  a  month  in  one  place  and  then 
wanders  on  till  his  money  is  spent  —  and  he  drove  that 
man  as  relentlessly  as  he  drove  himself.  Together 
they  accomplished  much,  while  the  goldpan  lay  hid- 
den under  a  buck  brush  and  Ward's  waking  moments 
were  filled  with  an  uneasy  sense  of  wasted  time.  Still, 
it  was  for  the  good  of  his  ranch  and  his  cattle  and  his 
air-castle  that  he  toiled  in  the  gulch,  and  it  was  neces- 
sary that  he  should  put  up  what  hay  he  could.  There 
would  be  calves  to  feed  next  winter,  he  hoped;  and 
when  the  hardest  storms  came,  his  horse  would  need  a 
little.  The  rest  of  the  stock  would  have  to  rustle ;  and 
that  was  why  he  had  chosen  this  nook  among  the  hills, 
where  the  wind  would  sweep  the  high  slopes  bare  of 


HELP  FOR  THE  COW  BUSINESS     119 

snow,   and  the  gulches  would  give  shelter  with  their 
heavy  thickets  of  quaking  aspens  and  willow  and  alder. 

He  was  thankful  when  the  creek  bottom  was  shaved 
clean  of  grass,  and  the  stack  beside  his  corral  was  of  a 
satisfying  length  and  height.  The  summer  had  been 
kind  to  the  grass-growth,  and  his  hay  crop  was  larger 
than  he  had  expected.  A  few  days  had  remained  of 
the  month,  and  Ward  had  used  them  to  extend  his  fence 
so  as  to  give  more  pasturage  to  his  calves  in  mild 
weather.  After  that  he  paid  the  man,  directed  him 
to  the  nearest  point  on  the  stage  road,  and  breathed 
thanks  that  he  was  alone  again,  and  could  go  back  to 
his  plan  of  digging  a  nice  little  bunch  of  cattle  out  of 
that  bank  before  snow  flew. 


CHAPTER  IX 

WHEW    EMOTIONS  ARE   BOTTLED 

ONE  day,  when  the  sun  was  warm  and  the  breeze 
that  filtered  down  the  gorge  was  pleasantly  cool, 
Ward  straightened  his  aching  back,  waded  out  to  dry 
ground,  and  sat  down  to  rest  a  few  minutes  and  make 
a  smoke.  His  interest  in  the  work  had  oozed  steadily 
since  sunrise,  and  left  nothing  but  the  back-breaking 
toil.  He  had  found  a  nugget  the  size  of  a  hazelnut  in 
the  second  pan  that  morning,  so  it  was  not  discourage- 
ment that  had  made  his  monotonous  movements  grow 
slow  and  reluctant.  Until  he  had  smoked  half  the 
cigarette,  he  himself  did  not  know  what  it  was  that 
ailed  him.  Then  he  flung  up  his  head  quite  sud- 
denly and  gave  a  snort  of  understanding. 

"  Hang  the  gold  !  I  'm  going  visiting  for  a  change." 
He  concealed  the  goldpan  and  his  pick,  shovel,  and 
sacks  in  the  clump  of  service  berries  and  chokeberries 
that  grew  at  the  foot  of  the  ledge  and  hid  from  view 
the  bank  where  he  dug  out  his  pay  dirt.  That  did  not 
take  more  than  two  or  three  minutes,  and  he  made 
them  up  after  he  had  swung  into  the  saddle  on  the 
farther  hillside.  It  was  not  a  good  trail,  and  except 
for  his  first  exultant  ride  home  that  way,  he  had  rid- 
den it  at  a  walk.  Now  he  made  Rattler  trot  where 
loping  was  too  risky;  and  so  he  came  clattering  down 
the  steep  trail  into  the  little  flat  beside  his  cabin.  He 


EMOTIONS  BOTTLED  121 

would  have  something  to  eat,  and  feed  Rattler  a  lit- 
tle hay,  and  then  ride  on  to  the  Wolverine.  And  now 
that  he  had  yielded  to  his  hunger  to  see  the  one  person 
in  the  world  for  whom  he  felt  any  tenderness,  he  grudged 
every  minute  that  separated  him  from  her.  He  loos- 
ened the  cinch  with  one  or  two  yanks  and  left  the  saddle 
on  Rattler,  to  save  time.  He  turned  him  loose  in  the 
hay  corral  with  the  bridle  off,  rather  than  spend  the 
extra  minutes  it  would  take  to  put  him  in  a  stall  and 
carry  him  a  forkful  of  hay.  He  thought  he  would  not- 
bother  to  start  a  fire  and  boil  coffee ;  he  would  eat 
the  sour-dough  bread  and  fried  rabbit  hams  he  had 
taken  with  him  for  lunch,  and  he  would  start  down 
the  creek  in  half  an  hour.  He  imagined  himself  an 
extremely  sensible  young  man  and  considerate  of  his 
horse's  comfort,  to  give  him  thirty  precious  minutes  in 
which  to  eat  hay.  It  was  not  absolutely  necessary ;  Rat- 
tler could  travel  forty  miles  instead  of  twenty  without 
another  mouthful,  so  far  as  that  was  concerned.  Ward 
was  simply  behaving  in  a  perfectly  normal  manner 
and  was  not  letting  his  feelings  get  the  better  of  him 
in  the  slightest  degree.  As  to  his  impromptu  vacation, 
he  was  certainly  entitled  to  it ;  he  ought  to  have  taken 
one  long  ago,  he  told  himself  virtuously.  He  had  panned 
dirt  all  day,  the  Fourth  of  July ;  that  was  last  week>  he 
believed.  And  he  had  not  made  more  than  two  dol- 
lars, either.  No,  he  was  not  behaving  foolishly  at  all. 
He  had  himself  well  in  hand. 

Then  he  flung  open  the  door  »f  his  cabin  and  went 
white  with  sheer  astonishment. 

"  'Lo,  Ward !  "    Billy  Louise  had  been  standing  be- 
hind the  door,  and  she  jumped  out  at  him,  laughing, 


122    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

just  as  if  she  were  ten  years  old  instead  of  nearly 
twenty. 

Ward  tried  to  say,  "  'Lo,  Bill,"  in  return,  but  the 
words  would  not  come.  His  lips  trembled  too  much, 
and  his  voice  was  pinched  out  in  his  throat.  His  mind 
refused  to  tell  him  what  he  ought  to  do;  but  his  arms 
did  not  wait  upon  his  paralyzed  mental  processes.  They 
shot  out  of  their  own  accord,  caught  Billy  Louise,  and 
brought  her  close  against  his  pounding  heart.  Ward 
was  startled  and  a  little  shocked  at  what  he  had  done, 
but  he  held  her  closer  and  closer,  until  Billy  Louise 
was  gasping  from  -something  more  than  surprise. 

Next,  Ward's  lips  joined  the  mutiny  against  his  rea- 
son, and  laid  themselves  upon  the  parted,  panting  lips 
of  Billy  Louise,  as  though  that  was  where  they  be- 
longed. 

Billy  Louise  had  probably  not  expected  anything 
like  that,  though  of  a  truth  one  can  never  safely  guess 
at  what  is  in  the  mind  of  a  girl.  She  tried  to  pull 
herself  free,  and  when  she  could  make  no  impression 
upon  the  grip  of  those  arms  —  they  had  been  growing 
muscles  of  iron  manipulating  that  goldpan,  remem- 
ber !  —  she  very  sensibly  yielded  to  necessity  and  stood 
still. 

"  Stop,  Ward !  You  —  I  —  you  have  n't  any  right 
to  —  " 

"  Well,  give  me  the  right,  then."  Ward  managed  to 
find  voice  enough  to  make  the  demand,  and  then  he 
kissed  her  many  times  before  he  attempted  to  say  an- 
other word.  Lord,  but  he  had  been  hungry  for  her, 
these  last  three  months! 

"  You  '11  give  me  the  right,  won't  you,  Wilhemina  ?  " 


EMOTIONS  BOTTLED  123 

he  murmured  against  her  ear,  brushing  a  lock  of  hair 
away  with  his  lips.  "  You  know  you  belong  to  me, 
don't  you?  And  I  belong  to  you  —  body  and  soul. 
You  know  that,  don't  you  ?  I  've  known  it  ever  since 
the  world  was  made.  I  knew  it  when  God  said,  '  Let 
there  be  light,'  and  there  was  light.  You  were  it" 

"  You  sill-y  thing."  Billy  Louise  did  not  seem  to 
know  whether  she  wanted  to  laugh  or  cry.  "  What  do 
you  think  you  're  talking  about,  anyway  ?  " 

"  About  the  way  the  world  was  made."  Ward  loos- 
ened his  clasp  a  little  and  looked  down  deep  into  her 
eyes.  "  My  world,  I  mean."  He  bent  and  kissed  her 
again,  gravely  and  very,  very  tenderly.  "  Oh,  Wil- 
hemina,  you  know  — "  he  waited,  gazing  down  with 
that  intent  look  which  had  a  new  softness  behind  it  — 
"  you  know  there  's  nothing  in  this  world  but  you.  As 
far  as  I  'm  concerned,  there  isn't.  There  never  will 
be." 

Billy  Louise  reached  up  her  hands  to  his  shoulders 
and  tried  to  give  him  a  shake.  "  Is  that  why  you  've 
stuck  yourself  in  these  hills  for  three  whole  months  and 
never  come  near  ?  You  fibber !  " 

"  That 's  why,  lady-girl.  I  've  been  sticking  here, 
working  like  one  son-of-a-gun  —  for  you.  So  I  could 
have  you  sooner."  He  lifted  his  bent  head  and  looked 
around  the  little  cabin  like  a  man  who  has  just  wak- 
ened to  his  surroundings.  "  I  knocked  off  work  a 
little  while  ago,  and  I  was  going  to  see  you.  I  could  n't 
stand  it  any  longer.  And  —  here  you  iss !  "  he  went  on, 
giving  her  shoulders  a  little  squeeze.  "  A  straight  case 
of  '  two  souls  with  but  a  single  thought,'  don't  you 
reckon  ? " 


124    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Billy  Louise,  by  a  visible  effort,  brought  the  situa- 
tion down  to  earth.  She  twisted  herself  free  and  went 
over  to  the  stove  and  saved  a  frying-pan  of  potatoes 
from  burning  to  a  crisp. 

"  I  don't  know  about  your  soul/'  she  said,  glancing 
back  at  him.  "  I  happen  to  have  two  or  three  thoughts 
in  mine.  One  is  that  I  'm  half  starved.  The  second 
is  that  you're  not  acting  a  bit  nice,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances ;  no  perfectly  polite  young  man  makes  love 
to  a  girl  when  she  is  supposedly  helpless  and  under 
his  protection."  She  stopped  there  to  wrinkle  her  nose 
at  him  and  twist  her  mouth  humorously.  "  The  third 
thought  is  that  if  you  don't  behave,  I  shall  go  straight 
home  and  never  be  nice  to  you  again.  And,"  she  added, 
getting  back  of  the  coffee-pot  —  which  looked  new  — 
"  the  rest  of  my  soul  is  one  great  big  blob  of  ques- 
tion-marks. If  you  can  eat  and  talk  at  the  same  time, 
you  may  tell  me  what  this  frantic  industry  is  all  about. 
If  you  can't,  I  '11  have  to  wait  till  after  dinner ;  not 
even  my  curiosity  is  going  to  punish  my  poor  tummy 
any  longer."  She  pulled  a  pan  of  biscuits  from  the 
oven,  lifted  them  out  one  at  a  time  with  dainty  little 
nabs  because  they  were  hot,  and  stole  a  glance  now 
and  then  at  Ward  from  under  her  eyebrows. 

Ward  stood  and  looked  at  her  until  the  food  was 
all  on  the  table.  He  was  breathing  unnaturally,  and 
his  jaws  were  set  hard  together.  When  she  pushed  a 
box  up  to  the  table  and  sat  down  upon  it,  and  rested 
her  elbows  on  the  oilcloth  and  looked  straight  at  him 
with  her  chin  nested  in  her  two  palms,  he  drew  a  long 
breath,  hunched  his  shoulders  with  some  mental  sur- 
render, and  grinned  wryly. 


EMOTIONS  BOTTLED  125 

"  So  be  it,"  he  yielded,  throwing  his  hat  upon  the 
bunk.  "  I  kinda  overplayed  my  hand,  anyway.  I 
most  humblj  ask  your  pardon !  "  He  bowed  farcically 
and  took  up  the  wash-basin  from  its  bench  just  outside 
the  door. 

"  You  see,  William  Louisa,"  he  went  on  quizzically, 
when  he  had  seated  himself  opposite  her  and  was  help- 
ing himself  to  the  potatoes,  "  when  a  young  lady  in- 
vades strange  territory,  and  hides  behind  strange  doors, 
and  jumps  out  at  an  unsuspecting  but  terribly  well- 
meaning  young  man,  she  's  apt  to  get  a  surprise.  When 
emotions  are  bottled  —  " 

"  Never  mind  the  bottled  emotions.  I  'd  like  some 
potatoes,  if  you  don't  want  them  all.  I  see  you  have  n't 
the  faintest  idea  how  to  treat  a  guest.  Charlie  Pox 
would  have  died  before  he  would  help  himself  and 
set  down  the  dish  away  out  of  my  reach.  You  could 
stick  pins  into  him  till  he  howled,  but  you  could  n't 
make  him  be  rude  to  a  lady." 

"  I  'd  sure  like  to,"  muttered  Ward  ambiguously  and 
handed  her  every  bit  of  food  within  his  reach. 

"  You  can  talk  and  eat  at  the  same  time,  I  see. 
So  tell  me  what  you  've  been  doing  all  this  while." 
Billy  Louise  spoke  lightly,  even  flippantly,  but  her  eyes 
were  making  lore  to  him  shyly,  whether  she  knew  it 
or  not. 

"  Working,"  answered  Ward  promptly  and  briefly. 
He  was  thinking  at  the  rate  of  a  million  thoughts  a 
minute,  it  seemed  to  him,  and  he  was  afraid  to  let 
go  of  himself  and  say  what  he  thought.  One  thing 
he  knew  beyond  all  doubt,  and  that  was  that  he  must 
be  careful  or  he  would  see  his  air-castle  blow  up  in 


126    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

small  fragments  and  come  down  a  hopeless  ruin.  He 
needed  time  to  think,  and  Billy  Louise  was  not  giv- 
ing him  even  a  minute.  So  he  clutched  at  two  deci- 
sions which  instinct  told  him  might  help  him  win  to 
safety:  He  would  not  make  love,  and  he  would  not 
tell  Billy  Louise  about  the  gold. 

"  Working !  Well,  so  have  I.  But  working  at  what  ? 
Did  you  hire  out  to  Junkins  again  ?  I  thought  you  said 
you  would  n't  till  fall."  Billy  Louise  was  watching 
Ward  rather  closely,  perhaps  to  see  how  far  she  might 
trust  his  recovered  inscrutability.  "  Why  don't  you 
show  some  human  inquisitiveness  about  my  being 
here  ?  "  she  asked  irrelevantly,  just  as  Ward  was  hast- 
ily choosing  how  he  would  answer  her  without  saying 
too  much. 

"  It  would  n't  be  polite  to  be  inquisitive  about  a 
lady,  would  it  ?  "  Ward  retorted,  thankful  for  the  change 
of  subject. 

"  N-no  —  but,  then,  you  never  bother  about  being 
just  polite !  Charlie  Fox  would  —  " 

"  Charlie  Fox  would  think  you  came  to  see  him," 
Ward  asserted  uncharitably.  "  My  head  is  n't  swelled 
to  that  extent.  Why  did  you  come,  anyway  ?  " 

"  To  see  you."  Billy  Louise  lost  her  nerve  when 
she  saw  the  light  leap  into  his  eyes.  "  To  see  whether 
you  were  dead  or  not,"  she  revised  hastily,  "  so  mom- 
mie  would  stop  worrying  about  you.  Mommie  has 
pestered  the  life  out  of  me  for  the  last  month,  think- 
ing you  might  be  sick  or  hurt  or  something.  So  —  I 
was  riding  up  this  way,  anyway,  and  — ' 

"  I  see  I  '11  have  to  ride  down  and  prove  to  mommie 
that  I  'm  very  much  alive.  I  'm  sure  glad  to  know  that 


EMOTIONS  BOTTLED  127 

somebody  takes  an  interest  in  me  —  as  if  I  were  a  real 
human."  Ward's  eyes  watched  furtively  her  face,  but 
Billy  Louise  refused  even  to  nibble  at  the  bait. 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  before,  then  ?  You  know 
mommie  likes  to  have  you." 

"  How  about  mommie's  child  ?  "  Ward's  look  was 
dangerous  to  his  good  resolutions. 

"  Listen  here,  Ward."  Billy  Louise  took  refuge 
behind  her  terrible  frankness.  "  If  you  make  love,  I 
won't  like  you  half  as  well.  Don't  you  know  that 
all  the  time  when  I  used  to  play  with  my  pretend  Ward 
Warren,  he  —  he  never  made  love  ?  "  A  dimple  tried 
to  show  itself  in  her  cheek  and  was  sent  about  its  busi- 
ness with  a  twist  of  her  lips.  "  My  pretend  Ward 
was  lovely;  he  liked  me  to  pieces,  but  he  never  came 
right  out  and  said  so.  He  —  he  skated  around  the  sub- 
ject—  "  Billy  Louise  illustrated  the  skating  process 
by  drawing  her  forefinger  in  a  wide  circle  around  her 
cup.  "  He  made  love  —  with  his  eyes  —  and  he  kissed 
me  with  his  —  voice  —  but  he  never  spoiled  it  with 
words." 

Ward  grunted  a  word  that  sounded  like  "  dam- 
chump." 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind !  "  Billy  Louise  flew  to  the 
defense  of  her  "  pretend."  "  He  knew  just  exactly  how 
a  girl  likes  to  be  made  love  to.  And,  anyway,  you  've 
been  doing  the  selfsame  thing  yourself,  Ward  War- 
ren, till  just  now.  And  —  " 

"Oh,  have  I?" 

"  Yes,  you  have.  And  I  might  have  known  better 
than  to  —  to  startle  you.  You  always,  eternally,  do 
something  nobody  'd  ever  dream  of  your  doing.  The 


128    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

first  time,  when  I  threw  that  chip,  you  pulled  a  gun 
on  ine  —  "  The  voice  of  Billy  Louise  squeezed  down 
to  a  wisp  of  a  whisper.  Her  eyes  were  remorseful. 
"  Oh,  Ward,  I  did  n't  mean  to  —  to  —  " 

"  It 's  all  right.  I  've  got  it  coming."  It  was  as 
if  a  mask  had  dropped  before  Ward's  features.  Even 
his  eyes  looked  strange  and  hard  in  that  face  of  set 
muscles,  though  the  thin,  bitter  lips  and  quivering 
nostrils  showed  that  there  was  feeling  behind  it  all. 
"  I  see  where  you  're  right,  William.  You  need  n't  be 
afraid;  I  won't  make  love  again." 

Billy  Louise  looked  as  though  she  wanted  to  beat 
something  —  herself,  most  likely.  She  stared  as  they 
stare  who  watch  from  the  dock  while  a  loved  one  slips 
farther  and  farther  away  on  a  voyage  from  which 
there  may  be  no  return;  only  Billy  Louise  was  not 
one  to  watch  and  do  nothing  else. 

"Now,  Ward,  don't  be  silly."  The  fright  in  her 
voice  was  overlaid  with  a  sharpened  tenderness.  "  You 
know  perfectly  well  I  did  n't  mean  that.  You  're  only 
proving  that  in  the  human  problem  you  're  raised 
to  —  Stop  looking-  darning-needles  at  that  coffee-pot 
and  listen  here !  "  Billy  Louise  leaned  over  the  table 
and  caught  at  his  nearest  hand,  which  was  a  closed 
fist.  With  her  own  little  fingers  digging  persistently 
:nto  the  tensed  muscles,  she  pried  the  fist  open. 
"  Ward,  behave  yourself,  or  I  '11  go  straight  home !  " 
She  held  his  straightened  fingers  in  her  own  and  drew 
a  sharp  breath  because  they  lay  inert  —  dead  things 
so  far  as  any  response  came  to  her  clasp;  the  first  and 
middle  fingers  yellowed  a  little  from  cigarettes,  the 
nails  soft  and  pink  from  much  immersion  in  water. 


EMOTIONS  BOTTLED  129 

A  tale  they  told,   if  Billy  Louise   had  been   paying 
attention. 

"  Ward,  you  certainly  are  —  the  limit !  You  know 
as  well  as  I  do  that  that  does  n't  make  a  particle  of 
difference.  If  I  had  been  a  boy  instead  of  a  girl,  and 
had  bucked  the  world  for  a  living,  I  'd  probably  have 
done  worse ;  and,  anyway,  it  does  n't  matter !  "  Her 
voice  rose  as  if  she  were  growing  desperate.  "I  — 
I  —  like  you  —  to  pieces,  Ward,  and  I  'd  —  I  'd  rather 
marry  you  —  than  anyone  else.  But  I  don't  want  to 
think  about  that  for  a  long  while.  I  don't  want  to 
be  engaged,  or  —  or  any  different  than  the  way  we  Ve 
been.  It  was  good  to  be  just  pals.  It  was  like  my 
pretend  Ward.  I  —  I  always  wanted  him  —  to  love 
me,  but  I  wouldn't  play  that  he  —  told  me,  Ward. 
Oh,  don't  you  see  ?  "  She  shut  her  teeth  hard  together, 
because  if  she  had  n't  she  would  have  been  crying  in 
another  ten  seconds. 

"  I  see."  Ward  spoke  dully,  evenly,  and  he  still 
stared  at  the  coffee-pot  with  that  gimlet  gaze  of  his 
that  made  Billy  Louise  want  to  scream.  "  I  see  a 
whole  lot  that  I  'd  been  shutting  my  eyes  to.  Why  don't 
you  feel  insulted  —  " 

"  Ward  Warren,  if  you  're  going  to  act  like  a  — 
a  —  "  I  suspect  that  Billy  Louise,  in  her  desperation, 
was  tempted  to  use  a  swear  word,  but  she  resisted  the 
temptation.  She  got  up  and  went  around  to  him,  hesi- 
tated while  she  looked  down  at  his  set  face,  drew  a  long 
breath,  and  blinked  back  some  tears  of  self-reproach 
because  of  the  devils  of  memory  she  had  unwittingly 
turned  loose  to  jibe  at  this  man. 

"This  is  why,"  she  said  softly;   and  leaning,  she 


130   RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

pressed  her  lips  down  upon  his  bitter  ones  and  let 
them  lie  there  for  a  dozen  heart-beats. 

Ward's  face  relaxed,  and  his  eyes  went  to  hers  with 
the  hungry  tenderness  she  had  seen  so  often  there.  He 
leaned  his  head  against  her  and  threw  up  an  arm  to 
clasp  her  close.  He  did  not  say  a  word. 

"  After  I  have  kissed  a  man,"  said  Billy  Louise, 
struggling  back  to  her  old  whimsical  manner,  "  it  won't 
be  a  bit  polite  for  him  to  have  any  doubts  of  my  feel- 
ings toward  him,  or  my  belief  in  him,  or  his  belief  in 
himself."  Her  fingers  tangled  themselves  in  his  hair, 
just  where  the  wave  was  the  most  pronounced. 

She  had  drawn  the  poison.  Now  she  set  herself  to 
restore  a  perfectly  normal  atmosphere. 

"  He  's  going  to  be  just  exactly  the  same  good  pal 
he  was  before,"  she  went  on,  speaking  softly.  "  And 
he  ?s  going  to  bring  some  water  so  I  can  wash  the 
dishes,  and  then  bring  Blue  so  I  can  go  home,  and  he 
is  n't  going  to  say  a  single  thing  more  about  —  any- 
thing that  matters  two  whoops." 

Ward's  clasp  tightened  and  then  grew  loose.  He 
drew  a  long  breath  and  let  her  go. 

"  You  do  like  me  —  a  little  bit,  don't  you  ?  "  His 
eyes  were  like  the  eyes  of  the  damned  asking  for 
water. 

"  I  like  you  two  little  bits."  Billy  Louise  took  his 
face  between  her  two  palms  and  smiled  down  at  him 
bravely,  with  the  pure  candor  that  was  a  part  of  her. 
"  But  I  don't  want  us  to  be  anything  but  pals ;  not 
for  a  long  while.  It 's  so  good,  just  being  friends. 
And  once  we  get  away  from  that  point,  we  can't  go 
back  to  it  again,  ever.  And  I  'm  sure  it 's  good  enough 


EMOTIONS  BOTTLED  131 

to  be  worth  while  making  it  last  as  long  as  we  can. 
So  now  —  " 

"  It 's  going  to  be  quite  a  contract,  Wilhemina." 
Ward  still  looked  at  her  with  his  heart  in  his  eyes. 

"  Oh,  no,  it  won't !  You  've  had  lots  of  practice," 
Billy  Louise  assured  him  confidently  and  began  putting 
the  few  dishes  in  a  neat  little  pile.  "  And,  anyway, 
you  are  perfectly  able  to  handle  any  kind  of  a  con- 
tract. All  you  need  do  is  make  up  your  mind.  And 
that 's  made  up  already.  So  the  next  thing  on  the 
programme  is  to  bring  a  bucket  of  water.  Did  you 
notice  anything  different  about  your  cabin?  I 
thought  you  bragged  to  me  about  being  such  a  good 
housekeeper !  Why,  you  had  n't  swept  the  floor,  even, 
since  goodness  knows  when.  And  I  've  made  up  a 
bundle  of  your  dirty  shirts  and  things  that  I  found 
under  the  bed,  and  I  'm  going  to  take  them  home  and 
let  Phrebe  wash  them.  She  can  do  them  this  evening 
and  have  them  ready  for  you  to  bring  back  to-morrow. 
When  I  was  a  kid  and  went  to  see  Marthy  and  Jase, 
I  used  to  promise  them  cookies  with  '  raisings '  in  the 
middle.  I  thought  there  was  nothing  better  in  the 
world.  I  was  just  thinking  —  I  '11  maybe  bake  you 
some  cookies  with  raisings  on  top,  to  bring  home.  You 
don't  seem  to  waste  much  time  cooking  stuff.  Bacon 
and  beans,  and  potatoes  and  sour-dough  bread:  that 
seems  to  be  your  regular  bill  of  fare.  And  tomatoes 
for  Sunday,  I  reckon ;  I  saw  some  empty  cans  outside. 
Don't  you  ever  feel  like  coming  down  to  the  ranch  and 
getting  a  square  meal  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  William  the  Conqueror !  "  Ward  stood 
with  the  water  bucket  in  his  hand,  and  looked  at  her 


132    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

with  that  smile  hidden  just  behind  his  lips  and  his 
eyes.  "  You  sure  sahe  how  to  make  things  come  your 
way,  don't  you  ? "  He  started  for  the  door,  stopped 
with  his  toes  over  the  threshold,  and  looked  back  at 
her.  "  If  I  knew  how  to  get  what  I  want,  as  easily 
as  you  do,"  he  said,  "we'd  be  married  and  keeping 
house  before  to-morrow  night !  "  He  laughed  grimly 
at  the  start  she  gave.  "  As  it  is,  you  're  the  doctor, 
I  William  Louisa.  We  remain  mere  friends !  "  With 
that  he  went  off  to  the  creek. 

He  was  gone  at  least  four  times  as  long  as  was 
necessary,  but  he  came  back  whistling,  and  he  did  »»t 
make  love  to  her  except  with  his  eyes. 


CHAPTER  X 


THIS    PAL    BUSINESS 


"TTDU'VE  sot  quite  a  lot  of  hav  Put  UP>  J  see>" 

X     Billy  Louise  remarked,  when  they  were  leaving. 

"  Sure.  I  told  you  I  've  been  working."  Ward's 
tone  was  cheerful  to  the  point  of  exuberance.  He  felt 
as  though  he  could  work  day  and  night  now,  with  the 
memory  of  Billy  Louise's  lips  upon  his  own. 

"  You  never  put  up  that  hay  alone,"  she  told  him 
bluntly,  "  and  you  need  n't  try  to  make  me  believe  you 
did.  I  know  better." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  Ward  glanced  over  his 
shoulder  at  the  stack,  then  humorously  at  her.  He 
recognized  the  futility  of  trying  to  fool  Billy  Louise, 
but  he  was  in  the  mood  to  tease  her. 

"  Humph  !  I  've  helped  stack  hay  myself,  if  you 
please.  I  can  tell  a  one-man  stack  when  I  see  it.  Who 
did  you  get  to  help  ?  Junkins  ?  " 

"  No,  a  half-baked  hobo  I  ran  across.  I  had  him 
here  a  month." 

"  Oh  !  Are  those  your  horses  down  there  ?  They 
can't  be."  Last  April,  Billy  Louise  had  been  very 
well  informed  as  to  Ward's  resources.  She  was  evi- 
dently trying  to  match  her  knowledge  of  their  well- 
defined  limitations  with  what  she  saw  now  of  pros- 
perity in  its  first  stages. 


134    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

"  They  are,  though.  A  dandy  span  of  mares.  I  g«t 
a  bargain  there." 

Billy  Louise  pondered  a  minute.  "  Ward,  yon 
are  n't  going  into  debt,  are  you  ?  "  Her  tone  was  anx- 
ious. "  It 's  so  beastly  hard  to  get  out,  once  you  're 
in!" 

"  I  don't  owe  anybody  a  red  cent,  William  Louisa. 
Honest." 

"  Well,  but  —  "  Billy  Louise  looked  at  him  from 
under  puckered  brows. 

Ward  laughed  oddly.  "  I  've  been  working,  Wil- 
liam. Last  spring  I  —  hunted  wolves  for  awhile ;  old 
ones  and  dens.  They  'd  killed  a  couple  of  calves  for 
me,  and  I  got  out  after  them.  I  —  made  good  at  it ; 
the  bounty  counts  up  pretty  fast,  you  know." 

"  Yes-s,  it  does."  Billy  Louise  bit  her  lips  thought- 
fully, turned  and  looked  back  at  the  haystack,  at  the 
long  line  of  new,  wire  fence,  and  at  the  two  heavy- 
set  mares  feeding  contentedly  along  the  creek.  "  There 
must  be  money  in  wolves,"  she  remarked  evenly. 

"  There  is.  At  least,  I  made  good  money  hunting 
them."  The  smile  was  hiding  behind  Ward's  lips  again 
and  threatening  to  come  boldly  to  the  surface.  "  They 
have  n't  bothered  you  any,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Billy  Louise,  "  they  haven't.  I  guess 
they  must  be  all  up  your  way." 

For  the  life  of  him  Ward  could  not  tell  to  a  cer- 
tainty whether  there  was  sarcasm  in  her  tone  or  whether 
she  spoke  in  perfect  innocence.  The  shrewdest  of  us 
deceive  ourselves  sometimes.  Ward  might  have  known 
he  could  not  fool  Billy  Louise,  who  had  careworn  ex- 
perience of  the  cost  of  ranch  improvements  and  could 


THIS  PAL  BUSINESS  135 

figure  almost  the  exact  number  of  wolf-bounties  it  would 
take  to  pay  for  what  he  had  put  into  his  claim.  Still, 
he  was  right  in  thinking  she  would  not  quiz  him  be- 
yond a  certain  point.  She  seemed  to  have  reached  that 
point  quite  suddenly,  for  she  did  not  say  another  word 
about  Ward's  affairs. 

'*  What  all 's  been  happening  in  the  world,  anyway  ?  " 
he  asked,  when  they  had  exhausted  some  very  trivial 
subjects.  "  Your  world,  I  mean.  Anything  new  or 
startling  taken  place  ?  " 

"  Not  a  thing.  Marthy  was  down  last  week  and 
spent  the  day  with  us.  I  never  saw  anybody  change 
as  much  as  she  has.  She  looks  almost  neat,  these  days. 
And  she  can't  talk  about  anything  but  Charlie  and  how 
well  he  's  doing.  She  lets  him  do  most  of  the  man- 
aging, I  think.  And  he  had  some  money  left  to  him, 
this  spring,  and  has  put  it  into  cattle.  He  bought  quite 
a  lot  of  mixed  stock  from  Seabeck  and  some  from 
Winters  and  kelson,  Marthy  says.  I  passed  some  of 
his  cattle  coming  up." 

"  Going  to  have  a  rival  in  the  business,  am  I  ?  " 
Ward  laughed.  "  I  was  figuring  on  being  the  only  thriv- 
ing young  cattle-king  in  this  neck  of  the  woods,  my- 
self." 

"  Well,  Charlie  's  in  a  fair  way  to  beat  you  to  it. 
I  wish,"  sighed  Billy  Louise,  "  some  kind  person  would 
leave  me  a  bunch  of  money.  Don't  you?  Cattle  are 
coming  up  a  little  all  the  time.  I  'd  like  to  own  a 
lot  more  than  I  do." 

"  Well,  we  —  "  Ward  stopped  and  reconsidered. 
"  If  wolfing  continues  to  pay  like  it  has  done,"  he  said, 
with  a  twitch  of  the  lips,  "  I  intend  to  stick  my  little 


136    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Y  6  monogram  on  a  few  more  cowhides  before  snow 
flies,  William.  And  when  you  've  had  enough  of  this 
friend  business  —  " 

"  Oh,  by  that  time  we  '11  all  be  rich !  "  Billy  Louise 
declared  lightly,  and  for  a  wonder  Ward  'was  -wise 
enough  to  let  that  close  the  subject. 

"  We  're  getting  neighbors  down  below,  too,"  she  «b- 
served  later.  "  I  did  n't  tell  you  that.  Down  the  river 
a  few  miles.  The  country  is  settling  up  all  the  time," 
she  sighed.  "  Pretty  soon  there  won't  be  any  more 
wilderness  left.  I  like  it  up  where  you  Ve  located. 
That  will  stay  wild  forever,  won't  it?  They  can't 
plant  spuds  on  those  hills,  anyway. 

"  And  —  did  you  hear,  Ward  ?  Seabeck  and  some 
of  the  others  hare  been  losing  stock,  they  say.  You 
know  Marthy  lost  four  calves  last  fall,  by  some  means. 
Charlie  Fox  was  terribly  worried  about  it,  though  it 
was  his  own  fault,  and  —  well,  I  thought  at  the  time 
someone  had  taken  them,  and  I  think  so  still.  And 
just  the  other  day  one  of  Seabeck's  men  stopped  at 
the  ranch,  and  he  told  me  they  're  shy  some  cows 
and  calves.  They  can't  imagine  what  went  with  them, 
and  they  're  lying  low  and  not  saying  anything  much 
about  it.  You  haven't  heard  or  seen  anything,  hare 
you,  Ward?" 

"  I  've  stuck  so  close  to  the  hills  I  have  n't  heard 
or  seen  anything,"  Ward  affirmed.  "  It 's  amazing, 
the  way  the  days  slip  by  when  a  fellow  's  busy  all  the 
time.  Except  for  two  trips  out  the  other  way,  to 
Hardup,  I  have  n't  been  three  miles  from  my  claim 
all  spring." 

"  Hardup !    That 's  where  the  bank  was  robbed,  a  few 


THIS  PAL  BUSINESS  137 

weeks  ago,  is  n't  it  ?  The  stage-driver  told  me  about 
it." 

"  I  don't  know ;  I  had  n't  heard  anything  about  it. 
I  have  n't  been  there  for  a  month  and  more,"  said  Ward 
easily.  "  Nearer  two  months,  come  to  think  of  it.  I 
was  there  after  a  mower  and  rake  and  some  wire." 

"  Oh !  "  Billy  Louise  glanced  at  him  sidelong  and 
added  several  more  wolves  to  the  number  she  had  men- 
tally put  down  to  Ward's  credit. 

Ward  twisted  in  the  saddle  so  that  he  faced  her, 
and  his  eyes  were  dancing  with  mischief.  "  Honest, 
William,  I  'm  not  wading  into  debt.  Every  cent  I  've 
put  into  that  place  this  summer  I  made  hunting  wolves. 
That 's  a  fact,  Wilhemina." 

"  I  wish  you  'd  tell  me  how,  so  I  can  do  it,  too," 
Billy  Louise  sighed,  convinced  by  his  tone  and  flat 
statement,  yet  feeling  certain  there  was  some  "  catch  " 
to  it,  after  all.  It  was  exactly  like  a  riddle  that  sounds 
perfectly  plain  and  simple  to  the  ears,  and  to  the  rea- 
son utterly  impossible. 

"  Well,  I  will — when  you  're  through  playing  pals," 
he  assured  her  cruelly.  Ward  did  not  know  women 
rery  well,  but  he  believed  curiosity  to  be  one  of  the 
strongest  traits  in  the  sex.  "  That 's  a  bargain,  Wil- 
liam Louisa,  and  I  '11  shake  hands  on  it  if  you  like. 
When  you  've  had  enough  of  this  just-friend  business, 
I  '11  show  you  how  I  dig  dollars  outa  wolf-dens."  He 
grinned  at  the  puzzled  face  of  her.  It  was  a  riddle, 
and  he  had  practically  put  the  answer  before  her,  and 
still  she  could  not  see  it.  There  was  a  little  streak 
of  devilment  in  Ward,  and  happiness  was  uncovering 
the  streak. 


138    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

"  I  never  said  I  was  crazy  to  know,"  Billy  Louise 
squelched  him  promptly.  "  Not  that  crazy,  anyway. 
'I  '11  live  quite  as  long  without  knowing,  I  reckon." 

She  almost  won  her  point  —  because  Ward  did  not 
know  women  very  well.  He  hesitated,  gave  her  a  quick, 
questioning  glance,  and  actually  opened  his  lips  to  tell 
her  all  about  it.  He  got  as  far  as,  "  Oh,  well,  I  sup- 
pose I  '11  have  to  —  "  when  Billy  Louise  saw  a  rattle- 
snake in  the  trail  ahead  and  spurred  up  to  kill  it  with 
her  rope.  She  really  was  crazy  to  know  the  answer 
to  the  riddle,  but  a  rattlesnake  will  interrupt  anything 
from  a  proposal  of  marriage  to  a  murder. 

Ward's  fingers  had  gone  into  the  pocket  in  his  shirt 
where  the  nugget  he  had  found  that  morning  was  sag- 
ging the  cloth  a  little.  He  had  been  on  the  point  of 
giving  it  to  Billy  Louise,  but  he  let  it  stay  where  it 
was  and  instead  took  down  his  own  rope  to  get  after 
the  snake,  that  had  crawled  under  a  bush  and  there 
showed  a  disposition  to  fight.  And  since  Blue  was 
no  fonder  of  rattlesnakes -than  he  was  of  mud,  Billy 
Louise  could  not  bring  him  close  enough  for  a  direct 
blow. 

"  Get  back,  and  I  '11  show  you  why  I  named  this 
cayuse  Battler,"  Ward  shouted.  "  I  '11  bet  I  've  killed 
five  hundred  snakes  with  him  —  " 

"  Almost  as  many  as  you  have  wolves  !  "  Billy  Louise 
snapped  back  at  him  and  so  lost  her  point  just  when  she 
had  practically  gained  it.  Ward  certainly  would  not 
tell  her,  after  that  stab. 

Rattler  perked  his  ears  forward  toward  the  strident 
buzzing  which  once  heard  is  never  forgotten,  and  which 
is  never  heard  without  a  tensing  of  nerves.  He  sighted 


THIS  PAL  BUSINESS  139 

the  snake,  coiled  and  ready  for  war  in  the  small  shade 
of  a  rabbit-bush.  He  circled  the  spot  warily,  his  head 
turned  sidewise,  and  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  flattened, 
ugly  head  with  its  thread  of  a  darting  tongue. 

Ward  pulled  his  gun,  "  threw  down  "  on  the  snake, 
and  cut  off  its  head  with  a  bullet. 

"  I  could  have  done  that  myself,"  Billy  Louise  as- 
serted jealously. 

"Well,  I  forgot.  Next  time  I'll  let  you  do  the 
shooting.  I  was  going  to  show  you  how  Rattler  helps. 
He  '11  circle  around  just  right  so  I  can  make  one  swing: 
of  the  rope  do.  But  Mr.  Snake  stuck  too  close  to 
that  rabbit  brush;  and  I  was  afraid  if  I  drove  him 
out  of  there  with  my  rope,  he  'd  get  under  those  rocks. 
I  'm  sorry,  Wilhemina.  I  did  n't  think." 

"  Oh,  I  can  get  all  the  snake-shooting  I  want,  any 
time."  Billy  Louise  laughed  good-humoredly.  "  I 
wish  you  'd  give  Blue  a  few  lessons  —  the  old  sin- 
ner!" 

"  Not  on  your  life,  I  won't."  Ward  leaned  from 
the  saddle,  picked  up  the  snake  by  the  tail,  pinched 
off  the  rattles,  and  dropped  the  repulsive  thing  to  the 
ground  with  a  slight  shiver  of  relief.  He  gave  the 
rattles  to  Billy  Louise.  "  I  'm  glad  Blue  does  feel 
a  wholesome  respect  for  rattlers ;  he  '11  take  better  care 
of  himself — and  his  mistress.  With  me  it  doesn't 
matter." 

"  Oh  —  does  n't  it  ?  "  asked  Billy  Louise,  and  there 
was  that  in  her  tone  that  made  Ward's  heart  give  a 
flop.  "  There  's  some  of  Marthy's  cattle  right  ahead," 
she  added  hurriedly,  seizing  the  first  trifle  with  which 
to  neutralize  the  effect  of  that  tone. 


140    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

"  MK  monogram,"  said  Ward  absently,  reading  the 
brand  mechanically,  as  is  the  habit  of  your  true  range 
man.  "  Pretty  fresh,  too.  Must  have  just  bought 
them." 

"  He  got  them  a  month  or  so  ago,"  said  Billy  Louise. 
"  Marthy  says  —  " 

"  A  month  ?  "  Ward  turned  and  gave  the  cow  near- 
est him  a  keener  look.  "  Pretty  good  condition,"  he 
observed,  quite  idly.  "  Say,  William,  when  these  hills 
get  filled  up  with  Y6es  and  big  Ds,  all  these  other 
scrub  critters  will  have  to  hunt  new  range,  won't 
they?" 

"  It  will  be  a  long  while  before  the  big  Ds  crowd  out 
so  much  as  a  crippled  calf,"  Billy  Louise  answered 
pessimistically.  "  I  lost  two  nice  heifers,  a  week  or  so 
ago.  They  broke  through  the  upper  fence  into  the 
alfalfa  and  started  to  fill  up,  of  course.  They  were 
dead  when  I  found  them." 

"  Next  time  I  cash  in  my  wolf  —  "  Ward  started  to 
promise,  but  she  cut  him  short. 

"  Do  you  mind  if  we  stop  at  the  Cove,  Ward  ?  Mom- 
mie  wanted  me  to  stop  and  get  some  currants.  Marthy 
says  they  're  ripe,  and  she  has  more  than  she  knows 
what  to  do  with." 

"  I  don't  mind  —  if  you  're  dead  sure  it 's  the  cur- 
rants." 

"  You  certainly  are  in  a  pestering  mood  to-day," 
Billy  Louise  protested,  laughing.  "  You  can't  jump 
any  game  on  that  trail,  smarty.  Charlie  Fox  is  a 
perfectly  lovely  young  man,  but  he 's  got  a  girl  in 
Wyoming.  The  stage-driver  says  there 's  never  been 
a  trip  in  that  he  did  n't  take  a  letter  from  the  Cove 


THIS  PAL  BUSINESS  141 

box  to  Miss  Gertrude  M.  Shannon,  Elk  Valley,  Wyo- 
ming. So  you  need  n't  try  —  " 

"  Nice,  mouthy  stage-driver,"  Ward  commented. 
"  Foxy  ought  to  land  on  him  a  few  times  and  see  if 
he'd  take  the  hint." 

"  Well,  I  knew  it  before  he  told  me.  Marthy  said 
last  winter  that  Charlie  's  engaged.  He 's  trying  to 
get  prosperous  enough  to  marry  her  and  bring  her  out 
to  the  Cove;  it  will  be  his  when  Marthy  dies,  any- 
way. I  must  say  Charlie  's  a  hustler,  all  right.  He 
keeps  a  man  all  the  time  now,  since  he  bought  more 
cattle.  Peter  Howling  Dog 's  working  for  him.  Char- 
lie 's  tried  to  range-herd  his  cattle  so  he  and  Peter  can 
gather  them  alone;  and  he  offered  to  look  after  mine, 
too,  so  I  won't  have  so  much  riding  to  do  this  hot 
weather.  He  's  awfully  nice,  Ward,  really.  I  don't  care 
if  he  is  a  rah-rah  boy.  And  he  is  n't  a  bit  in  love  with 
me." 

"  Is  it  possible,"  grinned  Ward,  "  that  any  human 
man  can  come  out  West  and  not  fall  in  love  with  the 
Prairie  Flower  —  " 

"  Ward  Warren,  do  you  want  me  to  —  " 

"  But  it 's  breaking  all  the  rules  of  romance,  Bill- 
the-Conk !  "  Ward  persisted.  "  No  story-sharp  would 
ever  stand  for  a  thing  like  that.  Don't  you  know  that 
the  nice  young  man  from  college  always  takes  notice 
in  the  second  chapter,  says  (  By  Jove !  What  a  little 
beauty ! '  in  the  third,  and  from  there  on  till  the  wind-up 
spends  most  of  his  time  running  around  in  circles  be- 
cause the  beautiful  flower  of  the  rancho  gives  him  the 
bad  eye  ? "  He  twisted  sidewise  in  the  saddle,  took 
a  half-hitch  with  the  reins  around  the  saddle-horn,  and 


142    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

proceeded  to  manufacture  a  cigarette  while  he  went 
on  with  the  burlesque. 

"  It  opened  out  according  to  Hoyle,  a  year  ago,  Wil- 
liam. Nice  young  man  comes  west.  Finds  Flower  of 
the  Eancho  first  rattle  of  the  box,  with  brave  young 
buckaroo  riding  herd  on  her  to  beat  four  of  a  kind. 
Looks  like  there  's  no  chance  for  our  young  hero.  Brave 
buckaroo  has  to  hie  him  forth  to  toil,  however  — " 
Ward  paused  long  enough  to  light  up,  and  afterwards 
blow  out  the  match  carefully  before  dropping  it  in 
the  trail,  "  —  at  the  humble  sum  of  forty  dollars  per 
month.  That  leaves  our  young  hero  on  the  job  tem- 
porarily. Stick  in  a  few  chapters  of  heart-burnings 
on  the  part  of  the  brave  buckaroo  —  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  no  doubt ! "  from  Billy  Louise,  who  was 
trying  not  to  giggle. 

"  Oh,  he  had  'em,  far  as  that  goes.  Brave  buckaroo 
had  heart-burnings  enough  for  a  Laura  Jean  Libbey 
romance.  All  according  to  Hoyle.  Young  hero  — 
Say,  Bill,  what 's  the  matter  with  that  gazabo,  anyway  ? 
Has  n't  he  got  good  eyesight,  or  what  ?  Can't  the 
chump  see  he  's  overlooking  a  bet  when  —  " 

"  Oh,  you  make  me  sick !  "  Billy  Louise  slashed  at 
a  ripening  branch  of  service  berries  with  her  quirt  and 
scared  Blue  so  that  he  lunged  against  the  romancer. 
"  You  men  seem  to  think  the  girl  has  nothing  to  say 
about  it !  You  think  we  just  sit  and  smile  and  wait 
for  somebody  to  snap  his  fingers,  and  we  jump  at  him ! 
You  —  " 

"  Did  n't  I  say  there  would  be  several  chapters  where 
the  haughty  beauty  keeps  our  young  hero  running  around 
in  circles,  and  the  brave  buckaroo  can't  figure  out 


THIS  PAL  BUSINESS  143 

whether  he  ought  to  buy  a  ring  or  more  shells  for  his 
six-gun  ? " 

"  With  the  inference  that  she  flops  into  his  arms  in 
the  last  chapter  and  hides  her  maidenly  blushes  against 
the  pocket  where  he  keeps  his  sack  of  Bull  Durham 
and  papers  —  " 

"  Oh,  you  Bill-the-Conk !  It  would  be  the  brave 
buckaroo  in  the  last  chapter  then,  would  it  ? "  Ward 
leaned  close,  swift  tenderness  putting  the  teasing  twin- 
kle to  flight  from  his  eyes.  "  Our  young  hero  smokes 
a  briar,  Wilhemina-mine !  " 

"  We-el  —  don't  skip !  "  cried  Billy  Louise,  backing 
away  from  him  with  more  blushes  than  any  girl  could 
hope  to  hide  behind  a  coat  of  tan.  "  There  's  lots  of 
chapters  before  the  last.  And  you  've  got  to  read  them 
straight  through  and  —  no  fair  skipping !  " 

"  Wilhemina-mine !  "  Ward  repeated  the  newly  in- 
vented appellation,  which  seemed  to  approach  satisfac- 
torily close  to  the  line  of  forbidden  endearments. 

"  Oh,  for  pity's  sake !  I  never  knew  you  to  act  so." 
Billy  Louise  scowled  unconvincingly  at  him  from  a  safe 
distance. 

"  I  never  was  kissed  before,"  blurted  Ward  fool- 
hardily, kicking  Rattler  closer. 

"  Well,  if  that 's  what  ails  you,  I  '11  see  it  does  n't 
happen  again,"  retorted  Billy  Louise  squelchingly,  and 
Ward's  self-assurance  was  not  great  enough  to  lift  him 
over  the  barrier  of  that  rebuff. 

They  came  upon  Charlie  Fox  sitting  on  his  horse 
beside  the  crude  mail-box,  reading  avidly  a  letter  of 
many  crisp,  close-written  pages.  Billy  Louise  flashed 
Ward  an  I-told-you-so  glance. 


144    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

"  Why,  how  do  you  do  ?  "  Charlie  came  out  of  cloud- 
land  with  a  start  and  turned  to  them  cordially,  while  he 
hastily  folded  the  letter.  "  Going  down  into  the  Cove  1 
That 's  good.  I  was  just  up  after  the  mail.  How 
are  things  up  your  way,  Warren  ?  " 

"  Fine  as  silk."  Ward's  eyes  swung  briefly  toward 
what  he  considered  the  chief  bit  of  fineness. 

"  That 's  good.  Trail 's  a  little  narrow  for  three, 
is  n't  it  ?  I  '11  ride  ahead  and  open  the  gate." 

"  They  've  got  a  new  gate  down  here,"  said  Billy 
Louise  trivially.  "  I  forgot  that  important  bit  of 
news." 

"  Well,  it  is  important  —  to  us  Covers,"  smiled  Char- 
lie, glancing  back  at  them.  "  No  more  bars  to  be  left 
down  accidentally.  This  gate  shuts  itself,  in  case 
someone  forgets." 

"  And  you  have  n't  lost  any  more  cattle,  have  you  ?  " 
The  question  was  a  statement,  after  Billy  Louise's 
habit. 

"  Not  out  of  the  Cove,  at  any  rate.  I  —  can't  speak 
so  positively  as  to  the  outside  stock  —  of  course." 

"  You  've  missed  some  ?  "  Billy  Louise  never  per- 
mitted a  tone  to  slip  past  her  without  tagging  it  im- 
mediately with  plain  English.  Charlie's  tone  had  said 
something  to  which  his  words  made  no  reference. 

"  I  don't  like  to  say  that,  Miss  Louise.  Very  likely 
they  have  stray  —  drifted,  I  mean  —  back  toward  their 
home  ranch.  Peter  and  I  can't  keep  cases  very  closely, 
of  course." 

Billy  Louise  shifted  uneasily  in  the  saddle  and 
pulled  her  eyebrows  together.  "  If  you  think  you  've 
lost  some  cattle,  for  heaven's  sake  why  don't  you  say 


THIS  PAL  BUSINESS  145 

so!"  (Ward  smiled  to  himself  at  her  tone.)  "If 
there  's  anything  I  hate,  it 's  hinting  and  never  com- 
ing right  out  with  anything.  Have  you  lost  any  ?  " 

Charlie  turned  with  a  hand  on  the  cantle  and  faced 
her  with  polite  reproach.  "  Peter  says  we  have,"  he 
admitted,  with  very  evident  reluctance.  "  I  hardly 
think  so  myself.  I  'd  have  to  count  them.  I  know, 
of  course,  how  many  we  've  bought  in  the  last  year." 

"  Well,  Peter  knows  more  about  it  than  you  do," 
Billy  Louise  told  him  bluntly.  "  If  he  has  missed  any, 
they  're  probably  gone." 

"  I  was  in  hopes  you  would  be  on  my  side,  Miss 
Louise."  Charlie  smiled  deprecatingly.  "  I  've  argued 
with  Aunt  Martha  and  Peter  until  —  But  I  did  n't 
know  you  were  a  confirmed  pessimist  as  well !  " 

"  You  did  n't  neglect  to  put  your  brand  on  them, 
did  you  ? "  asked  Billy  Louise  cruelly. 

Charlie  flushed  under  the  sunburn.  "  Really,  Miss 
Louise,  you  've  no  mercy  on  a  tenderfoot,  have  you  ?  " 
he  protested.  "  No,  they  are  all  branded,  really  they 
are.  Peter  and  Aunt  Martha  saw  to  that,"  he  con- 
fessed naively. 

"  It  seems  queer,"  said  Billy  Louise,  thinking  aloud. 
"  Ward,  there  certainly  is  rustling  going  on  around 
here;  and  no  one  seems  to  know  a  thing  beyond  the 
mere  fact  that  they  're  losing  cattle.  Seabeck  has  lost 
some  —  " 

"  Oh,  are  you  sure  ?  "  Charlie's  eyes  widened  per- 
ceptibly. "  I  had  n't  heard  that.  By  Jove !  It  sort 
of  makes  a  fellow  feel  shaky  about  going  into  cattle 
very  strong,  does  n't  it  ?  It  —  it  knocks  off  the  profits 
like  the  very  deuce,  to  keep  losing  one  here  and  there." 


146    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

"  A  fellow  has  to  figure  on  a  certain  percentage  of 
loss,"  said  Ward.  "  This  the  new  gate  ?  " 

"  Yes."  Charlie  seemed  relieved  by  the  diversion. 
"  Just  merely  a  gate,  as  you  see ;  but  we  Covers  are 
proud  of  every  little  improvement.  Aunt  Martha  comes 
up  here  every  day,  I  verily  believe,  just  to  look  at  it 
and  admire  it.  The  poor  old  soul  never  had  any  con- 
veniences that  she  could  n't  make  herself,  you  know, 
and  she  thinks  this  is  great  stuff.  I  put  this  padlock 
on  it  so  she  can  lock  herself  in,  nights  when  I  'm  away. 
She  feels  better  with  the  gate  locked.  And  then  I  Ve 
got  a  dog  that 's  as  good  as  a  company  of  soldiers  him- 
self. If  either  of  you  happen  down  here  when  there  's 
no  one  about,  you  will  have  to  introduce  yourselves  to 
Cerberus  —  so  named  because  he  guards  the  gates  — 
not  the  gate  to  Hades,  please  remember.  Surbus,  Aunt 
Martha  calls  him,  which  is  good  Idahoese  and  seems 
to  please  him  as  well  as  any  other.  Just  speak  to  him 
by  name  —  Surbus  if  you  like  —  and  he  will  be  all 
right,  I  think."  He  held  open  the  gate  for  them  to 
ride  through  and  gave  them  a  comradely  look  and 
smile  as  they  passed. 

Ward  took  in  the  details  of  the  heavy  gate  that 
barred  the  gorge.  He  did  not  know  that  he  betrayed 
the  fact  even  to  the  sharp  eyes  of  Billy  Louise,  but 
he  could  not  quite  bring  himself  to  the  point  of  meet- 
ing Charlie  Fox  anywhere  near  half-way  in  his  over- 
tures for  friendship. 

"  The  weight  is  so  heavy  that  the  gate  shuts  and 
latches  itself,  you  see,"  Charlie  went  on,  mounting  on 
the  inside  of  the  barrier  and  following  cheerfully  after 
them.  "  But  that  does  n't  satisfy  Aunt  Martha.  She 


THIS  PAL  BUSINESS  147 

and  Surbus  make  a  special  pilgrimage  up  here  every 
night." 

"  She  must  be  pretty  nervous."  Ward  could  not 
quite  see  why  such  precautions  were  necessary  in  a 
country  where  no  man  locked  his  door  against  the 
world. 

"  Well,  she  is,  though  you  would  n't  suspect  it,  would 
you?  When  one  thinks  of  the  life  she  has  lived,  and 
how  she  pioneered  in  here  when  the  country  was  straight 
wilderness,  and  all  that.  Of  course,  I  did  n't  know 
her  before  Uncle  Jason  died  —  do  you  think  she  has 
changed  since,  Miss  Louise  ? " 

"  Lots,"  Billy  Louise  assured  him  briefly.  She  was 
wondering  why  Ward  was  so  stiff  and  unnatural  with 
Charlie  Fox. 

"  I  think  myself  that  the  shock  of  losing  him  must 
have  made  the  difference  in  her.  There 's  Surbus ; 
how 's  that  for  a  voice  ?  And  he 's  just  as  blood- 
thirsty as  he  sounds,  too.  I  'd  hate  to  have  him  tackle 
me  in  the  gorge,  on  a  dark  night.  He's  too  savage, 
though  it 's  only  with  strangers,  and  we  don't  see 
many  of  them.  He  almost  ate  Peter  up,  when  he  first 
came.  And  he  gave  you  quite  a  scare  last  spring, 
did  n't  he,  Miss  Louise  ?  " 

"  He  came  within  an  ace  of  getting  his  head  shot 
off,"  Billy  Louise  qualified  laconically.  "  Marthy 
came  out  just  in  the  nick  of  time.  I  absolutely  refuse 
to  be  chewed  up  by  any  dog;  and  I  don't  care  who 
he  belongs  to." 

"  Same  here,  William,"  approved  Ward. 

Charlie  laughed.  "  I  see  Surbus  is  not  going  to  be 
popular  with  the  neighbors,"  he  said  easily.  "  I  do 


148    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

feel  very  apologetic  over  him.  But  Martliy  wanted  me 
to  get  a  dog,  and  so  when  a  fellow  offered  me  this 
one,  I  took  him;  and  as  Surbus  happened  to  take  a 
fancy  to  me,  I  did  n't  realize  what  a  savage  brute  he 
is,  till  he  tackled  Peter  —  and  then  Miss  Louise." 

"  Well,  Miss  Louise  was  perfectly  able  to  defend 
herself,  so  you  need  n't  feel  apologetic  about  that,"  said 
Billy  Louise  a  trifle  sharply.  She  hated  Surbus,  and 
she  was  quite  open  in  her  hatred.  "  If  he  ever  comes 
at  me  again,  and  nobody  calls  him  off,  I  shall  shoot 
him."  It  was  not  a  threat,  as  she  spoke  it,  but  a  plain 
statement  of  a  fact.  "  You  'd  better  serve  notice  too, 
Ward.  He  's  a  nasty  beast,  and  he  'd  just  as. soon  kill 
a  person  as  not.  He  was  going  to  jump  for  my  throat. 
He  was  crouched,  just  ready  to  spring  —  and  I  had 
my  gun  out  —  when  Marthy  saw  us  and  gave  a  yell 
fit  to  wake  the  dead.  Surbus  did  n't  jump,  and  I  did  n't 
shoot.  That 's  how  close  he  came  to  being  a  dead 
dog." 

She  glanced  at  Ward  and  then  furtively  at  Charlie 
Fox.  If  expression  meant  anything,  Surbus  was  yet 
in  danger  of  paying  for  that  assault.  She  caught  Ward's 
truculent  eye,  smiled,  and  shook  her  head  at  him. 
"  We  're  pretty  fair  friends  now,"  she  said.  "  At 
least,  we  don't  try  to  kill  each  other  whenever  we  meet. 
'  Armed  neutrality '  fits  our  case  fine." 

"  I  think  I  '11  volunteer  under  your  flag,"  said  Ward. 
"  I  '11  leave  Cerberus  alone  as  long  as  he  leaves  me  and 
my  friends  alone.  But  I  'd  advise  him  not  to  start 
anything." 

"  That 's  all  Surbus  or  anyone  else  can  ask.  Come 
on,  old  fellow !  Pardon  me,"  he  added  to  his  compan- 


THIS  PAL  BUSINESS  149 

ions  and  rode  past  them  to  meet  the  great,  heavy- 
jowled  dog.  "  Be  still,  Surbus.  We  're  all  friends, 
here." 

The  dog  lifted  a  non-committal  glance  to  Ward's 
face,  growled  deep  in  his  chest,  and  dropped  behind, 
nosing  the  tracks  of  Blue  and  Rattler  as  if  he  would 
identify  them  and  fix  them  in  his  memory  for  future 
use. 

Ward  had  never  seen  the  Cove  in  summer.  He  looked 
about  him  curiously,  struck  by  the  atmosphere  of  quiet 
plenty.  Over  the  crude  fence  hung  fruit-laden  branches 
from  the  jungle  within.  There  was  a  smell  of  ripening 
plums  in  the  air,  and  the  hum  of  bees.  Somewhere 
in  the  orchard  a  wild  canary  was  singing.  If  he  could 
live  down  here,  he  thought,  with  Billy  Louise  and  none 
other  near,  he  would  ask  no  odds  of  the  world  or  of 
heaven.  He  glanced  at  Charlie  Fox  enviously.  Well, 
he  had  a  fairly  well-sheltered  place  of  his  own,  up 
there  in  the  hills.  He  could  set  out  fruit  and  plants 
and  things  and  have  a  little  Eden  of  his  own;  though 
of  course  it  could  n't  be  like  this  place,  sheltered  as 
it  was  from  harsh  winds  by  that  high  rock  wall,  and 
soaking  in  sunshine  all  day  long.  Still,  he  could 
fix  his  place  up  a  lot,  with  a  little  time  and  thought 
and  a  good  deal  of  hard  work. 

He  looked  at  Billy  Louise  and  saw  how  the  beauty 
of  the  place  appealed  to  her,  and  right  there  he  de- 
cided to  study  horticulture  so  that  he  could  raise  plums 
and  apples  and  hollyhocks  and  things. 


CHAPTER  XI 

WAS    IT    THE   DOG? 

* '  r  I  lHAT  old  dame  down  there  thinks  a  lot  of  you, 
JL  William."  Ward  had  closed  the  gate  and  was 
preparing  to  remount. 

"  Well,  is  there  any  reason  why  she  should  n't  ? " 
The  tone  of  Billj  Louise  was  not  far  from  petulant. 

"  Not  a  reason.    What  'a  molla,  Bill  ?  " 

"  Nothing  that  I  know  of."  Billy  Louise  lifted 
her  eyes  to  the  rock  cabbages  on  the  cliff  above  them 
and  tried  to  speak  convincingly. 

"  Yes,  there  is.  Something 's  gone  wrong.  Can't 
you  tell  a  pal,  Wilhemina  ?  " 

There  was  no  resisting  that  tone.  Billj  Louise  looked 
at  him,  and  though  she  still  frowned,  her  eyes  light- 
ened a  little. 

"  No,  I  can't  tell  a  pal  —  or  anybody  else.  I  don't 
know.  Something 's  different,  down  there.  I  don't 
know  what  it  is,  and  I  don't  like  it."  She  thought  a 
minute  and  then  smiled  with  that  little  twist  of  the 
lips  Ward  liked  so  much.  "  Maybe  it 's  the  dog,"  she 
guessed.  "  I  never  see  his  ugly  mug  that  I  don't  feel 
like  taking  a  shot  at  him.  I  like  dogs,  too,  as  a  gen- 
eral thing.  He 's  got  a  wicked  heart !  I  know  he  has. 
He  'd  like  nothing  better  than  to  take  a  chunk  out 
of  me." 

"  I  '11  go  back  and  kill  him ;  shall  I,  Bill  Loo  ?  " 


WAS  IT  THE  DOG?  151 

"  No.  Some  day  maybe  I  '11  get  a  chance  at  him  my- 
self. I  Ve  warned  Marthy,  so  —  " 

"  Are  you  dead  sure  it 's  the  dog  ?  "  Ward  looked 
at  her  with  that  keenness  of  glance  which  was  hard 
to  meet  if  one  wanted  to  keep  a  secret  from  him. 

"  Why?  "  Billj  Louise's  tone  did  not  invite  further 
questioning. 

"  Oh,  nothing !     I  just  wondered." 

"  You  don't  like  Charlie ;  anybody  can  see  that." 

"  Yes  ?     Foxy  's  a  real  nice  young  man." 

"  But  you  don't  like  him.  You  never  do  like  any- 
body  —  " 

"  No  ? "  Ward's  smile  dared  her  to  persist  in  the 
accusation.  "  In  that  case  I  've  no  business  to  be  fool- 
ing around  here  when  there  's  work  to  be  done.  That 
Cove  down  there  has  roused  a  heap  of  brand-new  wants 
in  me,  Wilhemma.  Gotta  have  an  orchard  up  on  Mill 
Creek,  lady-fair.  Gotta  have  a  flower  garden  and  things 
that  climb  all  over  the  house  and  smell  nice.  Gotta 
have  four  times  as  much  meadow  as  I  've  got  now,  and 
a  house  full  of  books  and  pictures  and  things,  and  more 
cattle  and  horses,  and  a  yellow  canary  in  a  yellow  cage 
singing  his  head  off  out  on  the  porch.  Gotta  work 
like  one  son-of-a-gun,  Wilhemina,  to  get  all  those  things 
and  get  'em  quick,  so  I  can  stand  some  show  of  —  get- 
ting what  I  really  do  want." 

"  Well,  am  I  keeping  you  ?  "  Billy  Louise  was  cer- 
tainly in  a  villainous  mood. 

"  You  are,"  Ward  affirmed  quite  calmly.  "  Only  for 
you,  I  'd  be  hustling  like  the  mischief  right  this  min- 
ute along  the  get-rich  trail.  Say,  Bill,  I  don't  believe 
it 's  the  dog!  "  He  looked  at  her  with  the  smile  hiding 


152    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

just  behind  his  lips  and  his  eyes.  And  behind  the 
smile,  if  one's  insight  were  keen  enough  to  see  it, 
was  a  troubled  anxiety.  He  shifted  the  pail  of  cur- 
rants to  the  other  arm  and  spoke  again : 

"  What  is  it,  Wilhemina  ?  Something  's  bothering 
you.  Can't  you  tell  a  fellow  what  it  is  ?  " 

"  £To,  I  can't."  Billy  Louise  spoke  crossly.  "  I  've 
got  a  headache.  I  've  been  riding  ever  since  this  morn- 
ing, and  I  should  think  that 's  reason  enough.  I  wish 
to  goodness  you  'd  let  me  alone.  Go  on  back  to  work, 
if  you  're  so  crazy  about  working ;  I  'm  sure  I  don't  want 
to  hinder  you  in  any  of  your  get-rich-quick  schemes !  " 
She  shut  her  teeth  together  with  a  click,  jerked  Blue 
angrily  into  the  trail  when  he  had  merely  stepped 
out  of  it  to  avoid  a  rock,  and  managed  to  make  him 
as  conscious  of  her  mood  as  was  Ward. 

Ward  eyed  her  unobtrusively  with  his  face  set 
straight  ahead.  He  glanced  down  at  the  pail  of  cur- 
rants, which  was  heavy,  and  at  the  trail,  which  was 
long  and  lonely.  He  twisted  his  lips  in  brief  sar- 
casm —  for  he  had  a  temper  of  his  own  —  and  rode 
on  with  his  neck  set  very  stiff  and  his  eyes  a  trifle 
harder  than  they  had  ever  been  before  when  Billy  Louise 
rode  alongside.  He  did  not  turn  off  at  the  ford  —  and 
Billy  Louise  betrayed  by  a  quick  glance  at  him  that 
she  had  half  expected  him  to  desert  her  there  —  but 
crossed  it  beside  her  and  rode  on  up  the  hill. 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  not  speak 
to  her  again  until  she  wiped  out,  by  apology  or  a 
change  of  manner,  that  last  offensive  remark  of  hers. 
He  hoped  she  realized  that  he  was  only  going  with 
her  to  carry  the  currants,  and  he  hoped  she  realized 


WAS  IT  THE  DOG?  153 

also  that,  if  she  had  been  any  other  person  who  had 
spoken  to  him  like  that,  he  would  have  dumped  the  cur- 
rants on  the  ground  and  ridden  off  and  left  her  to  her 
own  devices. 

He  did  not  once  speak  to  Billy  Louise  on  the  way 
to  the  Wolverine;  but  his  silence  changed  gradually 
from  stubbornness  to  pure  abstraction,  as  they  rode 
leisurely  along  the  dusty  trail  with  the  sunset  glow- 
ing before  them.  He  almost  forgot  the  actual  pres- 
ence of  Billy  Louise,  and  he  did  actually  forget  her 
mood.  He  was  planning  just  how  and  where  he  should 
plant  his  orchard,  and  he  was  mentally  building  an 
addition  to  the  cabin  and  screening  a  porch  wide  enough 
to  hang  a  hammock  inside,  and  he  was  seeing  Billy 
Louise  luxuriously  swinging  in  that  hammock  while 
he  sat  close,  and  smoked  and  teased  and  gloried  in 
his  possession  of  her  companionship. 

His  thoughts  shuttled  to  his  little  mine,  though  he 
seldom  dignified  it  by  that  title.  He  speculated  upon 
the  amount  of  gold  he  might  yet  hope  to  wash  out 
of  that  gravel  streak,  though  he  had  held  himself  sternly 
back  from  such  mental  indulgence  all  the  spring.  He 
felt  that  he  was  going  to  need  every  grain  of  gold  he 
could  glean.  He  wanted  his  wife  —  he  glowed  at  the 
mere  thinking  of  that  name  —  to  have  the  nicest  little 
home  in  the  country.  He  decided  that  it  would  be 
pleasanter  than  the  Cove,  all  things  considered ;  he  had 
a  fine  view  of  the  rugged  hills  from  his  cabin,  and  he 
imagined  the  Cove  must  be  pretty  hot  during  the  days, 
with  that  high  rock  wall  shutting  off  the  wind  and 
reflecting  the  sun.  His  own  place  was  sheltered,  but 


154    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

still  it  was  not  set  down  in  the  bottom  of  a  well.  She 
had  liked  it.  She  had  said  .  .  . 

They  rode  over  the  crest  of  the  bluff  and  down  the 
steep  trail  into  the  Wolverine.  However  cloudy  the 
atmosphere  between  the  two,  the  ride  had  seemed  short 
—  so  short  that  Ward  felt  the  jar  of  surprise  when 
he  looked  down  and  saw  the  cabin  below  them.  He 
glanced  at  Billy  Louise,  guessed  from  her  somber  face 
that  the  villainous  mood  still  held  her,  and  sighed  a 
little.  He  was  not  deeply  concerned  by  her  mood.  He 
understood  her  too  well  to  descend  into  any  slough 
of  despondence  because  she  was,  cross.  Then  he  re- 
membered the  reason  she  had  given  —  the  reason  he  had 
not  believed  at  the  time.  They  were  down  by  the  gate, 
then. 

"  Head  still  ache,  William  ? "  he  asked,  in  the  tone 
which  he  could  make  a  fair  substitute  for  a  caress. 

"  Yes,"  said  Billy  Louise,  and  did  not  look  at  him. 

Ward  was  inwardly  skeptical,  but  he  did  not  tell 
her  so.  He  swung  off  his  horse,  set  down  the  pail 
of  currants,  and  took  Blue  by  the  bridle. 

"  You  go  on  in.  I  '11  unsaddle,"  he  commanded  her 
quietly.  And  Billy  Louise,  after  a  perceptible  hesita- 
tion, obeyed  him  without  looking  at  him  or  speaking 
a  word. 

If  Ward  resented  her  manner,  which  was  unrea- 
sonably uppish,  he  could  not  have  chosen  a  more  ef- 
fective revenge.  He  talked  with  Mrs.  MacDonald  all 
through  supper  and  paid  no  attention  to  Billy  Louise. 
After  supper  he  spied  a  fairly  fresh  Boise  paper,  and 
underneath  that  lay  the  Butte  Miner.  That  discovery 
settled  the  evening,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned.  If 


WAS  IT  THE  DOG?  155 

he  and  Billy  Louise  had  been  on  the  best  of  terms,  it 
is  doubtful  if  she  could  have  dragged  his  attention 
from  those  papers. 

Several  times  Billy  Louise  looked  at  him  as  though 
she  meditated  going  over  and  snatching  them  away 
from  him,  but  she  resisted  the  temptation  and  con- 
tinued to  behave  as  a  nice  young  woman  should  behave 
toward  a  guest.  She  left  him  sitting  inside  by  the 
lamp,  which  her  mother  had  lighted  for  his  especial 
convenience,  and  went  out  and  sat  on  the  doorstep  and 
stared  at  the  dusky  line  of  hills  and  at  the  Big  Dip- 
per. She  was  trying  to  think  out  the  tangle  of  tiny, 
threadlike  mysteries  that  had  enmeshed  her  thoughts 
and  tightened  her  nerves  until  she  could  not  speak  a 
decent  word  to  anyone. 

She  felt  that  the  lives  of  those  around  her  were  weav- 
ing puzzle-patterns,  and  that  she  must  guess  the  puz- 
zles. And  she  felt  as  though  part  of  the  patterns  had 
been  left  out,  so  that  there  were  ragged  points  thrust- 
ing themselves  upon  her  notice  —  points  that  did  not 
point  to  anything. 

She  sat  with  her  elbows  on  her  knees  and  her  chin 
in  her  cupped  palms,  and  scowled  at  the  Big  Dipper 
as  if  it  held  the  answer  away  up  there  beyond  her 
reach.  Where  did  Ward  get  the  money  to  do  all  the 
things  he  had  done,  this  spring  and  sumrrter?  If  he 
expected  her  to  believe  that  wolf  story  —  ! 

What  became  of  the  cattle  that  had  disappeared,  by 
twos  and  threes  and  sometimes  more,  in  the  last  few 
months?  Was  there  a  gang  of  thieves  operating  in 
the  country,  and  where  did  they  stay  ? 

Why  had  Ward  hinted  that  she  did  not  like  Charlie 


156    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Fox,  and  why  did  n't  he  himself  like  Charlie  ?  Why 
had  she  felt  that  weight  of  depression  creep  over  her 
when  they  were  leaving  the  Cove  ?  Why  ?  Why  ? 

Billy  Louise  tried  to  bring  her  cold,  common  sense 
to  the  front.  She  had  found  it  a  most  effective  remedy 
for  most  moods.  Now  it  assured  her  impatiently  that 
every  question  —  save  one  —  had  heen  born  in  her  own 
super-sensitive  self.  That  one  definite  question  was 
the  first  one  she  had  tried  to  answer.  It  kept  asking 
itself,  over  and  over,  until  in  desperation  Billy  Louise 
went  to  bed  and  tried  to  forget  it  in  sleep. 

Somewhere  about  midnight  —  she  had  heard  the 
clock  strike  eleven  a  long  while  ago  —  she  scared  her 
mother  by  sitting  up  suddenly  in  bed  and  exclaiming 
relievedly :  "  Oh,  I  know ;  it 's  some  new  poison !  He 
poisons  them !  " 

"  Wake  up !  For  the  land's  sake,  what  are  you 
dreaming  about  ?  "  Her  mother  shook  her  agitatedly 
by  the  arm.  "  Billy  Louise !  WTake  up !  " 

"  All  right,  rnommie."  Billy  Louise  lay  down  and 
snuggled  the  light  blanket  over  her  shoulders.  She 
had  been  awake  and  thinking,  thinking  till  she  thought 
she  never  could  stop,  but  she  did  not  tell  mommie  that. 
She  went  to  sleep  and  dreamed  about  poisoned  wolves 
till  it  is  a  wonder  she  did  not  have  a  real  nightmare. 
The  question  was  answered,  and  for  the  time  being 
the  answer  satisfied  her. 

Ward  was  surely  an  unusual  type  of  young  man. 
He  did  not  seem  to  remember,  the  next  morning,  that 
there  had  been  any  outbreak  of  bottled  emotions  on 
his  part  the  day  before,  or  any  ill-temper  on  the  part 
of  Billy  Louise,  or  anything  at  all  out  of  the  ordinary. 


WAS'  IT  THE  DOG?  157 

Billy  Louise  had  prepared  herself  to  apologize  — 
in  some  roundabout  manner  which  would  effect  a  recon- 
ciliation without  hurting  her  pride  too  much  —  and  she 
was  rather  chagrined  to  discover  that  Ward  seemed 
neither  to  expect  or  to  want  any  apology. 

"  Sorry  I  gotta  go,  William,"  he  volunteered  whim- 
sically soon  after  breakfast.  "  But  I  gotta  dig.  Say, 
Wilhemina,  if  I  stay  away  long  enough,  will  you  come 
after  me  again  ?  " 

"  A  wise  man,"  said  Billy  Louise  evasively,  "  may 
do  a  foolish  thing  once,  but  only  a  fool  does  it  twice." 

"  I  don't  believe  it 's  the  dog."  Ward  shook  his  head 
at  her  in  mock  meditation.  "  It  would  n't  last  over- 
night, if  it  was  just  the  dog."  He  looked  at  her  with 
the  hidden  smile.  "  Are  you  sure  —  " 

"  I  'm  sure  you  know  how  to  pester  a  person !  "  The 
lips  of  Billy  Louise  twisted  humorously.  "  Lots  of 
things  bother  me,  and  you  ought  to  help  me  out  in- 
stead of  making  it  worse."  She  walked  beside  him 
down  to  the  corral  where  Rattler  was  waiting,  sad- 
dled and  bridled  for  the  homeward  journey. 

"  Well,  tell  a  fellow  what  they  are.  Of  course, 
if  it 's  the  dog  —  " 

"  Ward  Warren,  you  're  awful !  It  is  n't  the  dog. 
Well,  it  is,  but  there  are  heaps  of  other  things  I  want 
to  know,  that  I  don't  know.  And  you  don't  seem  to 
care  about  any  single  one  of  them." 

Ward  leaned  up  against  the  fence  and  tilted  his  hat 
to  shade  his  eyes  from  the  sun.  "  Name  a  few  of  them, 
William  Louisa.  ~Not  even  a  brave  young  buckaroo 
can  be  expected  to  mind-read  a  girl.  If  he  could  —  " 

"  Well,  is  it  poison  you  use  ?  "    Billy  Louise  thought 


158    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

it  best  to  change  Ward's  trend  of  thought  immediately. 
"  Last  night  it  just  came  to  me  all  at  once  that  you 
must  have  found  some  poison  besides  strychnine  —  ': 

"  Eh  ?  Oh,  I  see !  "  He  managed  a  rather  provoking 
slur  on  the  last  word.  "  No,  William/*  His  eyes  twin- 
kled at  her.  "  It  is  n't  poison.  What  's  the  other  thing 
you  want  to  know  ?  " 

Billy  Louise  frowned,  hesitated,  and,  accepting  the 
rebuff,  went  on  to  the  next  question: 

"  What  went  with  Seabeck's  cattle,  and  Marthy  and 
Charlie's,  and  all  the  others  that  have  disappeared? 
You  don't  seem  to  care  at  all  that  there  seems  to  be 
rustling  going  on  around  here." 

Ward  gave  her  a  quick  look.  His  tone  changed  a 
bit: 

"  I  don't  know  that  there  is  any.  I  never  yet  lived 
in  a  cow-country  where  there  was  n't  more  or  less  talk 
of  —  rustling.  You  don't  want  to  take  gossip  like  that 
too  seriously.  Anything  more  ?  " 

Billy  Louise  glanced  at  him  surreptitiously  and 
looked  away  again.  Then  she  tried  to  go  on  as  casually 
as  she  had  begun. 

"  Well,  there  's  something  about  the  Cove.  I  don't 
believe  Marthy  's  happy.  I  could  n't  quite  get  hold  of 
the  thing  yesterday  that  gave  me  the  blues  —  but  it 's 
Marthy.  She  's  grieving,  or  something.  She  's  dif- 
ferent. She 's  changed  more  since  last  winter  than 
she 's  changed  since  I  can  remember.  You  noticed 
something  —  at  least  you  spoke  about  her  coming  up 
the  gorge  —  " 

"  I  said  she  thinks  a  lot  of  you,  Wilhemina."  Ward's 
tone  and  manner  were  natural  again,  "  I  noticed  her 


WAS  IT  THE  DOG?  159 

looking  at  you  when  you  did  n't  know  it.  She  thinks 
a  heap  of  you,  I  should  say,  and  she  's  worrying  about 
something.  Maybe  she  'd  rather  have  you  in  the  Cove 
than  Miss  Gertrude  M.  Shannon.  Don't  you  reckon 
an  old  lady  that  has  had  her  own  way  all  her  life  kind 
of  dreads  the  advent  of  a  brand-new  bride  in  her 
domain  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course !  Poor  old  thing !  I  never  thought 
of  that.  And  here  you  hit  the  nail  on  the  head  just 
with  a  chance  thought.  That  shows  what  it  means  to 
be  a  brave  young  buckaroo,  with  heaps  and  piles  "of 
brains !  "  She  laughed  at  him,  but  behind  her  ban- 
tering was  a  new  respect  for  Ward's  astuteness.  "  Go 
on.  Tell  me  why  you  don't  like  Charlie  Fox,  or  why 
you  refuse  to  admit  how  nice  and  kind  he  is  and  —  " 

"  But  I  don't  refuse  —  " 

"  Well,  I  put  it  stupidly,  of  course,  but  you  know 
what  I  mean.  Tell  me  your  candid  opinion  of  him." 

"  I  have  n't  any."  Ward  smoked  imperturbably  for 
a  minute,  so  that  Billy  Louise  began  to  think  he  would 
not  tell  her  what  she  wanted  to  know.  Ward  could 
be  absolutely,  maddeningly  dumb  on  some  subjects,  as 
she  had  reason  to  know.  But  he  continued,  quite 
frankly  for  him: 

"  Has  it  ever  struck  you,  William  Jane,  that  after 
all  Foxy  is  not  sacrificing  such  a  hell  of  a  lot  ?  "  He 
bit  his  lip  because  of  the  word  he  had  let  slip,  but  since 
Billy  Louise  took  no  notice^  he  went  on :  "  He  's  got  a 
pretty  good  thing,  down  there,  if  you  stop  to  think.  The 
old  lady  won't  live  always,  and  she  's  managed  to  build 
up  a  pretty  fine  ranch.  It  stands  Foxy  in  hand  to 
be  good  to  her,  don't  you  think  ?  He  '11  have  a  pretty 


ISO    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

fine  stake  out  of  it.  Far  as  I  know,  he  's  all  right.  I 
merely  fail  to  see  where  he  's  got  a  right  to  wear  any 
halo  on  his  manly  brow.  He  's  got  a  good  hand  in  the 
game,  and  he  's  playing  it  —  a  heap  better  than  lots 
of  men  would.  Dot 's  all,  Wilhemina."  He  turned 
to  her  as  if  he  would  dismiss  the  subject.  "  Don't  run 
off  with  the  notion  that  1 'm  out  after  the  heart's  blood 
of  our  young  hee-ro.  I  like  him  all  right  —  far  as  he 
goes.  I  like  him  a  heap  better,"  he  owned  frankly, 
"  since  I  glommed  him  devouring  that  letter  from  Miss 
Gertrude  M.  Shannon. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  ride  a  ways  with  me  ? "  His 
eyes  made  love  while  he  waited  for  her  to  speak. 
"Don't?"  (When  she  shook  her  head.)  "You're 
a  pretty  mean  young  person  sometimes,  are  n't  you  ? 
Wha  's  molla  ?  Did  I  give  you  more  mood  than  I  wiped 
off  the  slate  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  You  say  a  sentence  or  two,  and  it 's 
like  slashing  a  knife  into  a  curtain.  You  show  all 
kinds  of  things  that  were  nicely  covered  before."  Billy 
Louise  spoke  gloomily.  "  I  '11  see  Marthy  as  a  poor 
old  lady  waiting  to  be  saddled  with  a  boss,  from  now 
on.  And  Charlie  Fox  just  simply  working  for  his  own 
interests  and  —  " 

"Now,   William!" 

"  Oh,  I  can  see  it  myself,  now." 

"  Well,  what  if  he  is  ?  We  're  all  of  us  working  for 
our  own  interests,  are  n't  we  ?  "  He  saw  the  gloom 
still  deep  in  her  eyes  and  flung  out  both  hands  impa- 
tiently. "  All  right,  all  right !  I  '11  plead  the  cause 
of  our  young  hee-ro,  then.  What  would  old  Marthy 
do  without  him  ?  He 's  made  her  more  comfortable 


WAS  IT  THE  DOG?  161 

than  she  ever  was  in  her  life,  probably.  I  noticed 
a  big  difference  in  the  cabin,  yesterday.  And  he  's  do- 
ing the  work,  and  taking  the  responsibility,  and  making 
the  ranch  more  valuable  —  even  put  a  wire  on  the  gate, 
that  rings  a  bell  at  the  house,  so  she  '11  know  when  com- 
pany 's  coming,  and  can  get  the  kitchen  swept.  He  's 
done  a  lot  —  " 

"  For  himself !  "  In  her  disillusionment  Billy  Louise 
went  too  far  the  other  way.  "  And  the  cabin  is  more 
comfortable  for  that  girl  when  he  brings  her  there  to 
run  over  Marthy !  " 

"  Well,  what  of  it  ?  You  don't  expect  him  to  put 
in  his  time  for  nothing,  do  you  ?  In  the  last  analysis 
we  're  all  self-centered  brutes,  Wilhemina.  We  're  think- 
ing once  for  the  other  fellow  and  twice  for  ourselves, 
always.  I  'm  working  and  scheming  day  and  night 
to  get  a  stake  —  so  I  can  have  what  means  happiness 
to  me.  Marthy  's  letting  Foxy  have  full  swing  in  the 
Cove,  because  that  gives  her  an  easier  life  than  she  's 
ever  had.  If  she  did  n't  want  him  there,  she  'd  mighty 
quick  shoo  him  up  the  gorge,  or  I  don't  know  the  old 
lady.  We  're  all  selfish." 

"  I  think  it 's  a  horrid  world !  "  rebelled  the  youth- 
ful ideals  of  Billy  Louise.  "  I  wish  you  would  n't  say 
you  're  just  thinking  of  yourself  —  " 

"  I  'm  human,"  he  pointed  out.  "  I  want  my  hap- 
piness. So  do  you,  for  that  matter.  We  all  want  to 
get  all  we  can  out  of  life." 

"  And  at  the  other  fellow's  expense !  " 

"  Oh,  not  necessarily.  Some  of  us  want  the  other 
fellow  to  be  just  as  happy  as  we  are."  His  look  pointed 
the  meaning  for  him. 


162    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

"  I  don't  care ;  I  think  it  's  mean  of  Charlie  Fox  to 
bring  —  " 

"  May  he  not.  The  chances  are  the  young  lady  will 
take  to  housework  like  a  bear-cuh  to  a  syrup  keg,  and 
old  Marthy  will  potter  around  with  her  flowers  and  be 
perfectly  happy  with  the  two  of  them.  Cheer  up,  Bill 
Loo !  Lemme  have  a  smile,  anyway,  before  I  go.  And 
I  wish,"  he  added  quizzically,  "  you  'd  spare  me  some 
of  that  sympathy  you  've  got  going  to  waste.  I  'm  a 
poor  lonesome  devil  working  away  to  get  a  stake,  and 
you  know  why.  I  don't  have  nobody  to  give  me  a  kind 
word,  and  I  don't  have  no  fun  nor  nothing,  nohow. 
Come  on  and  ride  a  mile  or  two !  " 

"  I  have  to  help  mommie,"  said  Billy  Louise,  which 
was  not  true. 

"  Well,  if  you  won't,  darn  it,  don't !  "  Ward  reached 
down,  caught  her  hand,  and  squeezed  it,  taking  a  chance 
on  being  seen.  "  Gotta  go,  Wilhemina-mine.  Adios.  I 
won't  stay  away  so  long  next  time."  He  turned  away 
to  his  horse,  stuck  his  foot  in  the  stirrup,  and  went 
up  into  the  saddle  without  any  apparent  effort.  Then 
he  swung  Rattler  close  to  where  she  stood  beside  the 
gate. 

"  Sure  you  want  to  be  just  pals,  Wilhemina-mine  ?  " 
he  asked,  bending  close  to  her. 

"  Of  course  I  'm  sure,"  said  Billy  Louise  quickly  — 
a.  shade  too  quickly. 

Ward  looked  at  her  intently  and  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders. "  All  right,"  he  said,  in  the  tone  which  made 
plain  his  opinion  of  her  decision.  "  You  're  the 
doctor." 

Billy  Louise  watched  him  up  the  hill  and  out  of  sight 


WAS  IT  THE  DOG?  163 

over  the  top.  When  he  was  gone,  she  caught  Blue  and 
saddled  him;  then,  with  her  gun  buckled  around  her 
hips  and  her  rope  coiled  beside  the  saddle-fork,  she  rode 
dismally  up  the  canyon. 


CHAPTER  XH 

THE  LITTLE  DEVILS   OF  DOUBT 

WOLVERINE  canyon,  with  the  sun  shining  down 
aslant  into  its  depths,  was  a  picturesque  gash 
in  the  hills,  wild  enough  in  all  conscience,  but  to  the 
normal  person  not  in  the  least  degree  gloomy.  The  jut- 
ting crags  were  sunlit  and  warm.  The  cherry  thickets 
whispered  in  a  light  breeze  and  sheltered  birds  that 
sang  in  perfect  content.  The  service  berries  were  rip- 
ening and  hung  heavy-laden  branches  down  over  the 
trail  to  tempt  a  rider  into  loitering.  The  creek  leaped 
over  rocks,  slid  thin  blades  of  swift  current  between 
the  higher  bowlders,  and  crept  stealthily  down  into  shady 
pools,  where  speckled  trout  lay  motionless  except  for  the 
gently-moving  tail  and  fins  that  held  them  stationary  in 
some  deeper  shadow.  Not  a  gloomy  place,  surely,  when 
the  peace  of  a  sunny  morning  laid  its  spell  upon  the 
land. 

Billy  Louise,  however,  did  not  respond  to  the  can- 
yon's enticements.  She  brooded  over  her  own  discour- 
agements and  the  tantalizing  little  puzzles  which  some- 
how would  not  lend  themselves  to  any  convincing  solu- 
tion. She  was  in  that  condition  of  nervous  depression 
where  she  saw  her  finest  cows  dead  of  bloat  in  the  alfalfa 
meadows  —  and  how  would  she  pay  that  machinery  note, 
then?  She  saw  John  Pringle  calling  unexpectedly  and 
insistently  for  his  "  time  "  —  and  where  would  she  find 


LITTLE  DEVILS  OF  DOUBT        165 

another  man  whom  she  could  trust  out  of  her  sight? 
John  Pringle  was  slow,  and  he  was  stupid  and  growled 
at  poor  Phoabe  till  Billy  Louise  wanted  to  shake  him, 
but  he  was  "  steady,"  and  that  one  virtue  covers  many 
a  man's  faults  and  keeps  him  drawing  wages  regularly. 

Her  mother  had  been  more  and  more  inclined  to 
worry  as  the  hot  weather  came  on;  lately  her  anxiety 
over  small  things  had  rather  gotten  upon  the  nerves  of 
Billy  Louise.  She  felt  ill-used  and  down-hearted  and 
as  if  nothing  mattered  much,  anyway.  She  passed  her 
cave  with  a  mere  glance  and  scowl  for  the  memories 
of  golden  days  in  her  lonely  childhood  that  clung  around 
it.  She  passed  Minervy's  cave,  and  her  lips  quivered 
with  self-pity  because  that  childhood  was  gone,  and 
she  must  not  waste  time  or  energy  upon  romantic  "  pre- 
tends," but  must  measure  haystacks  and  allow  so  much 
for  "  settling,"  and  then  add  and  multiply  and  divide 
all  over  two  sheets  of  tablet  paper  to  find  out  how  much 
hay  she  had  to  winter  the  stock  on.  She  must  hold 
herself  rigidly  to  facts,  and  tend  fences  and  watch  irri- 
gating ditches,  and  pay  interest  on  notes  three  or  four 
years  old,  and  ride  the  hills  and  work  her  way  through 
rocky  canyons,  keeping  watch  over  the  cattle  that  meant 
so  much.  She  had  meant  to  talk  over  things  with  Ward 
and  ask  his  advice  about  certain  details  that  required 
experienced  judgment.  But  Ward  had  precipitated  her 
thoughts  into  strange  channels  and  so  had  unconsciously 
thwarted  her  counsel-seeking  intentions.  She  had 
wanted  to  talk  things  over  with  Marthy,  and  Marthy  had 
also  unconsciously  prevented  her  doing  so  and  had  filled 
Billy  Louise  with  uneasiness  and  doubt  which  in  no 
way  concerned  herself. 


166    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

These  doubt*  persisted,  arid  so  did  the  tantalizing 
little  puzzles.  They  weaned  Billy  Louise's  thoughts 
from  her  own  ranch  worries  and  nagged  at  her  with 
the  persistence  of  a  swarm  of  buffalo  gnats. 

"  Well,  if  he  does  n't  use  poison,  for  goodness'  sake, 
what  does  he  use  ? "  she  asked  indignantly  aloud,  after 
a  period  of  deep  thought.  "  I  don't  see  why  he  wants 
to  be  so  terribly  secretive.  He  might  be  human  enough 
to  tell  a  person  what  he  means.  I  'm  sure  I  'd  tell  him, 
all  right.  I  don't  believe  it 's  wolves  at  all.  I  don't 
see  how  —  and  still  —  I  don't  believe  Ward  would 
really  lie  to  me." 

She  was  in  this  particularly  dissatisfied  mood  when 
she  rode  out  of  the  canyon  at  its  upper  end,  where 
the  hills  folded  softly  down  into  grassy  valleys  where 
her  cattle  loved  best  to  graze.  Since  the  grass  had 
started  in  the  spring,  she  had  kept  her  little  herd  up 
here  among  the  lower  hills;  and  by  riding  along  the 
higher  ridges  every  day  or  so  and  turning  back  a  wan- 
dering animal  now  and  then,  she  had  held  them  in  a 
comparatively  small  area,  where  they  would  be  easily 
gathered  in  the  fall.  A  few  head  of  Seabeck's  stock 
had  wandered  in  amongst  hers,  and  some  of  Marthy's. 
And  there  was  a  big,  roan  steer  that  bore  the  brand 
of  Johnson,  orer  on  Snake  River.  Billy  Louise  knew 
them  all,  a»  a  housewife  knows  her  flock  of  chickens, 
and  if  she  missed  seeing  certain  leaders  in  the  scat- 
tered groups,  she  rode  until  she  found  them.  Two  old 
cows  and  one  big,  red  steer  that  seemed  always  to  have 
a  following  wore  bells  that  tinkled  pleasant  little  sounds 
in  the  alder  thickets  along  the  creek,  as  she  passed  by. 

She  rode  up  the  long  ridge  which  gave  her  a  wide 


LITTLE  DEVILS  OF  DOUBT        167 

view  of  the  surrounding  hills  and  stopped  Blue,  while 
ghe  stared  moodily  at  the  familiar,  shadow-splotched 
expanse  of  high-piled  ridges,  with  deep  green  valleys 
and  deeper-hued  canyons  between.  She  loved  them, 
every  one;  but  to-day  they  failed  to  steep  her  senses  in 
that  deep  content  with  life  which  only  the  great  out- 
doors can  give  to  one  who  has  learned  how  satisfying 
is  the  draught  and  how  soothing. 

Far  over  to  the  eastward  a  black  dot  moved  up  a 
green  slope  and  slid  out  of  sight  beyond.  That  might 
be  Ward,  taking  a  short-cut  across  the  hill  to  his  claim 
beyond  the  pine-dotted  ridge  that  looked  purple  in  the 
distance.  Billy  Louise  sighed  with  a  vague  disquiet 
and  turned  to  look  away  to  the  north,  where  the  jum- 
ble of  high  hills  grew  more  rugged,  with  the  valleys 
narrower  and  deeper. 

Here  came  two  other  dots,  larger  and  more  clearly 
defined  as  horsemen.  From  mere  objects  that  stood 
higher  than  any  animal  and  moved  with  a  purposeful 
directness,  they  presently  became  men  who  rode  with 
the  easy  swing  of  habit  which  has  become  a  second 
nature.  They  must  have  seen  her  sitting  still  upon 
her  horse  in  the  midst  of  that  high,  sunny  plateau,  for 
they  turned  and  rode  up  the  slope  toward  her. 

Billy  Louise  waited,  too  depressed  to  wonder  greatly 
who  they  were.  Seabeck  riders,  probably;  and  so  they 
proved.  At  least  one  of  them  was  a  Seabeck  man  — 
Floyd  Carson,  who  had  talked  with  her  at  her  own  gate 
and  had  told  her  of  the  suspected  cattlerstealing.  The 
other  man  was  a  stranger  whom  Floyd  introduced  as 
Mr.  Birken. 

They  had  been   "  prowling  around,"   according  to 


168    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Floyd,  trying  to  see  what  they  could  see.  Floyd  was 
one  of  these  round-faced,  round-eyed,  young  fellows 
who  does  not  believe  much  in  secrecy  and  therefore  talks 
freely  whenever  and  wherever  he  dares.  He  said  that 
Seaheck  had  turned  them  loose  to  keep  cases  and  see 
if  they  couldn't  pick  up  the  trail  of  these  rustlers  who 
were  trying  to  get  rich  off  a  running  iron  and  a  long 
rope.  (If  you  are  of  the  West,  you  know  what  that 
means;  and  if  you  are  not,  you  ought  to  guess  that 
it  means  stealing  cattle  and  let  it  go  at  that.)  It  was 
not  until  he  had  talked  for  ten  minutes  or  so  that 
Billy  Louise  became  more  than  mildly  interested  in 
the  conversation. 

"  Say,  Miss  MacDonald,"  Floyd  asked,  by  way  of 
beginning  a  new  paragraph,  "  how  about  that  fellow 
over  on  Mill  Creek?  He  worked  for  you  folks  a  year 
or  so  ago,  did  n't  he  ?  What  does  he  do  ?  " 

"  He  has  a  ranch,"  said  Billy  Louise  with  careful 
calm.  "  He 's  been  working  on  it  this  summer,  I  be- 
lieve." 

"  Uh-huh  —  we  were  over  there  this  morning.  Them 
Y6  cattle  up  above  his  place  are  his,  I  reckon  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Billy  Louise.  "  He  's  been  putting  his 
wages  into  cattle  for  a  year  or  so.  He  worked  for 
Junkins  last  winter.  Why  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,  I  guess !  Only  he  's  the  only  stranger 
in  the  country,  and  his  prosperity  ain't  accounted 
for  —  " 

"Oh,  but  it  is!"  laughed  Billy  Louise.  "I  only 
wish  I  had  half  as  clear  a  ticket.  When  he  is  n't  work- 
ing out,  he  's  wolfing ;  and  every  dollar  he  gets  hold  of  he 
puts  into  that  ranch.  We  've  known  him  a  long  time. 


LITTLE  DEVILS  OF  DOUBT        169 

He  does  n't  blow  his  money,  you  see,  like  most  fel- 
lows do." 

Floyd  found  occasion  to  have  a  slight  argument  with 
his  horse,  just  then.  He  happened  to  be  one  of  the 
"  most "  fellows,  and  the  occasion  of  his  last  "  blow- 
out "  was  fresh  in  his  mind. 

"  Well,  of  course,  if  you  know  he 's  all  straight, 
that  settles  it.  But  it  sure  seems  queer  —  " 

"  That  fellow  is  straight  as  a  string.  Don't  you  sup- 
pose it 's  some  gang  over  on  the  river,  Floyd  ?  I  'd  lopk 
around  over  there,  I  believe,  and  try  to  get  a  line  on 
the  unaccountables.  There  's  a  lot  of  new  settlers  come 
in,  just  in  the  last  year  or  two,  and  there  might  be 
some  tough  ones  scattered  through  the  bunch.  Better 
see  if  there  has  been  any  cattle  shipped  or  driven  through 
that  way,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

"  We  can  try,"  Floyd  assented  without  eagerness. 
"  But  as  near  as  we  can  figure,  it 's  too  much  of  a 
drib-drab  proposition  for  that.  A  cow  and  calf  here 
and  there,  and  so  on.  We  got  wind  of  it  first  when 
we  went  out  to  bring  in  a  gentle  cow  that  the  deacon 
wanted  on  the  ranch.  We  knew  where  she  was,  only 
she  was  n't  there  when  we  went  after  her.  We  hunted 
the  hills  for  a  week  and  couldn't  find  a  sign  of  her 
or  her  calf.  And  she  had  stuck  down  in  the  creek  bot- 
tom all  the  spring,  so  it  looked  kinda  funny."  He 
twisted  in  the  saddle  and  looked  back  at  the  pine- 
clotted  ridge. 

"  There  's  a  Y6  calf  up  there  that 's  a  dead  ringer  for 
the  one  we  've  been  hunting,"  he  observed.  "  But  it 's 
running  with  a  cow  that  carries  Junkins'  old  brand, 
so  —  "  He  looked  apologetically  into  the  calm  eyes  of 


170    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Billy  Louise.  "  Of  course,  I  don't  mean  to  say  there 's 
anything  wrong  up  there,"  he  hastily  assured  her.  "  But 
that 's  the  reason  I  thought  I  'd  ask  you  about  that 
fellow." 

"  Oh,  it 's  perfectly  right  to  make  sure  of  every- 
body," smiled  Billy  Louise.  "  I  'd  do  the  same  thing 
myself.  But  you  '11  find  everything  's  all  straight  up 
there.  We  know  all  about  him,  and  how  and  where  he 
got  his  few  head  of  stock,  and  everything.  But  of 
course  you  could  ask  Junkins,  if  you  have  any 
doubt  —  " 

"  Oh,  we  '11  take  your  word  for  it.  I  just  wanted 
to  know ;  he  's  a  stranger  to  our  outfit.  I  've  seen  him 
a  few  times ;  what 's  his  name  ?  Us  boys  call  him 
Noisy.  It 's  like  pulling  a  wisdom  tooth  to  get  any 
kinda  talk  out  of  him." 

"  He  is  awful  quiet,"  assented  Billy  Louise  carelessly. 
"  But  he  's  real  steady  to  work." 

"  Them  quiet  fellows  generally  are,"  put  in  Mr.  Bir- 
ken.  "  You  run  stock  in  here  too,  do  you,  Miss  Mac- 
Donald?" 

"  The  big  Ds,"  answered  Billy  Louise  and  smiled 
faintly.  "  I  've  been  range-herding  them  back  here  in 
these  foothills  this  summer.  Do  you  want  to'  look 
through  the  bunch  ?  " 

Mr.  Birkin  blushed.  "Oh,  no,  not  at  all!  I  was 
wondering  if  you  had  lost  any." 

"  Nobody  would  rustle  cattle  from  a  lady,  I  hope  ? 
At  any  rate,  I  have  n't  missed  any  yet.  The  folks  down 
in  the  Cove  have,  though." 

"  Yes,  I  heard  they  had.  That  breed  rode  over 
to  see  if  he  could  get  a  line  on  them.  It 's  hard  luck ; 


LITTLE  DEVILS  OF  DOUBT        171 

that  Charlie  Fox  seems  a  fine,  hard-working  boy,  don't 
you  think  ?  " 

"  Yes-s,"  said  Billy  Louise  shyly,  "  he  seems  real 
nice."  She  looked  away  and  bit  her  lip  self-consciously 
as  she  spoke. 

The  two  men  swallowed  the  bait  like  a  hungry  fish. 
They  glanced  at  each  other  and  winked  knowingly. 
Billy  Louise  saw  them  from  the  tail  of  her  downcast  eye, 
and  permitted  herself  a  little  sigh  of  relief.  They 
would  be  the  more  ready  now  to  accept  at  its  face  value 
her  statement  concerning  Ward,  unless  they  credited  - 
her  with  the  feat  of  being  in  love  with  the  two  men 
at  the  same  time. 

"  Well,  I  'm  sorry  Charlie  Fox  has  been  tapped  off, 
too.  He  's  a  mighty  fine  chap,"  declared  Floyd  with 
transparent  heartiness,  his  round  eyes  dwelling  curi- 
ously upon  the  face  of  Billy  Louise. 

"  Yes,  I  must  be  going,"  said  that  young  woman 
self-consciously.  "  I  've  quite  a  circle  to  ride  yet.  I 
hope  you  locate  the  rustlers,  and  if  there  's  anything 
I  can  do  —  if  I  see  or  hear  anything  that  seems  to  be 
a  clew  —  I  '11  let  you  know  right  away.  I  've  been 
keeping  my  eyes  open  for  some  trace  of  them,  and  — 
so  has  Char  —  Mr.  Fox."  Then  she  blushed  and  told 
them  good-by  very  hastily  and  loped  off  up  the  ridge. 

"  Bark  up  that  tree  for  awhile,  you  two !  "  she  said, 
with  a  twist  of  her  lips,  when  she  was  well  away  from 
them.  "  You  —  you  darned  idiots !  To  go  prowling 
around  Ward's  place,  just  as  if  —  Ward  '11  take  a  shot 
at  them  if  he  catches  them  nosing  through  his  stock !  " 
She  scowled  at  a  big  D  cow  that  thrust  her  head  out  of 
an  alder  thicket  and  sent  Blue  in  after  her.  Frowning, 


172    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

she  watched  the  animal  go  lumbering  down  the  hill 
toward  the  Wolverine.  "  Just  because  he  's  a  stranger 
and  does  n't  mix  with  people,  and  minds  his  own  busi- 
ness and  is  trying  to  get  a  start,  they  're  suspicious  — 
as  if  a  man  has  no  right  to —  Well,  I  think  I  man- 
aged to  head  them  off,  anyway." 

Her  satisfaction  lasted  while  she  rode  to  the  next 
ridge.  Then  the  little  devils  of  doubt  came  a-swarming 
and  a-whispering.  She  had  said  she  knew  all  about 
Ward;  well,  she  did,  to  a  greater  extent  than  others 
knew.  But  —  she  wondered  if  she  did  not  know  too 
much,  or  if  she  knew  enough.  There  were  some 
things  — 

She  turned,  upon  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  and  looked 
away  toward  the  pine-dotted  height  locally  known  as 
the  Big  Hill,  beyond  which  Ward's  claim  lay  snug- 
gled out  of  sight  in  its  little  valley.  "  I  've  a  good  mind 
to  ride  over  there  right  now,  and  make  him  tell  me,'7 
she  said  to  herself.  She  stopped  Blue  and  sat  there 
undecided,  while  the  wind  lifted  a  lock  of  hair  and 
flipped  it  across  her  cheek.  "  If  he  cares  —  like  he  says 
he  cares  —  he  '11  tell  me,"  she  'murmured.  "  I  don't 
believe  it 's  wolves.  And  of  course  it  is  n't  —  what 
those  fellows  seemed  to  think.  But — -  where  did  he 
get  the  money  for  all  that  ?  "  She  sighed  distressfully. 
"  I  hate  to  ask  him ;  he  'd  think  I  did  n't  trust  him, 
and  I  do.  I  do  trust  him !  "  There  was  the  little  head- 
devil  of  doubt,  and  she  fought  him  fiercely.  "I  do ! 
I  do !  "  She  thrust  the  declaration  of  faith  like  a  sword 
through  the  doubt-devil  that  clung  and  whispered. 
"  Dear  Ward !  I  do  trust  you !  "  She  blinked  back  tears 
and  bit  her  lips  to  stop  their  quivering.  "  But,  darn 


LITTLE  DEVILS  OF  DOUBT        173 

it,  I  don't  see  why  you  did  n't  tell  me !  "  There  it  was : 
a  perfectly  human,  woman-resentment  toward  a  nagging 
mystery. 

She  headed  Blue  down  the  slope  and  as  straight 
for  the  Big  Hill  as  she  could  go.  She  would  go  and 
make  Ward  tell  her  what  he  had  been  doing;  not  that 
she  had  any  doubt  herself  that  it  was  perfectly  all  -right, 
whatever  it  was,  but  she  felt  that  she  had  a  right  to 
demand  facts,  so  that  she  could  feel  more  sure  of  her 
ground.  And  there  would  be  more  questions;  Billy 
Louise  was  bright  enough  to  see  thus  far  into  the 
future.  Unless  the  rustlers  were  caught,  there  would 
be  questions  asked  about  this  silent  stranger  who  kept 
his  trail  apart  from  his  fellows  and  whose  prosperity 
was  out  of  proportion  with  his  opportunities.  Why, 
even  Billy  Louise  herself  had  been  curious  over  that 
prosperity,  without  being  in  the  slightest  degree  suspi- 
cious. Other  people  had  not  her  faith  in  him;  and 
they  were  not  blind.  They  would  wonder  — 

There  was  no  trail  that  way,  and  the  ridges  were 
steep  and  the  canyons  circuitous.  But  Blue  was  a  good 
horse,  with  plenty  of  stamina  and  much  experience. 
He  carried  his  lady  safely,  and  he  carried  her  willingly. 
Even  her  impatience  could  find  no  fault  with  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  climbed  steep  pitches,  slid  down  slopes 
as  steep,  jumped  narrow  washouts,  and  picked  his  way 
through  thickets  of  quaking  aspens  or  over  wide 
stretches  of  shale  rock  and  lava  beds.  He  was  wet  to 
his  ears  when  finally  he  shuffled  into  WarcL's  trail  up 
the  creek  bottom;  but  he  breathed  evenly,  and  he  car- 
ried his  head  high  and  perked  his  ears  knowingly  for- 
ward when  the  corral  and  havstack  came  into  view 


174    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

around  a  sharp  bend.  He  splashed  both  front  feet  into 
the  creek  just  before  the  cabin  and  stopped  to  drink 
while  Billy  Louise  stared  at  the  silent  place. 

By  the  tracks  along  the  creek  trail  she  knew  that 
Ward  had  come  home,  and  she  urged  Blue  across  the 
ford  and  up  the  bank  to  the  cabin.  She  slid  off  and 
went  in  boldly  to  hide  her  inward  embarrassment  —  and 
she  found  nothing  but  emptiness  there. 

Billy  Louise  did  not  take  long  to  investigate.  The 
coffee-pot  was  still  warm  on  the  stove  when  she  laid 
her  palm  against  it,  and  she  immediately  poured  herself 
a  cup  of  coffee.  A  plate  and  a  cup  on  the  table  indi- 
cated that  Ward  had  eaten  a  hurried  meal  and  had  not 
taken  time  to  clear  away  the  litter.  Billy  Louise  ate 
what  was  left,  and  mechanically  she  washed  the  dishes 
and  made  everything  neat  before  she  went  down  to  look 
for  Rattler.  She  had  thought  that  Ward  was  out  some- 
where about  the  place  and  would  return  very  soon, 
probably.  Blue  she  had  left  standing  in  plain  sight 
before  the  cabin,  so  that  Ward  would  see  him  and  know 
she  was  there  —  a  fact  which  she  regretted. 

While  she  was  washing  dishes  and  sweeping,  she  had 
been  trying  to  think  of  some  excuse  for  her  presence 
there.  It  was  going  to  be  awkward,  her  coming  there 
on  his  heels,  one  might  say.  She  remembered  for  the 
first  time  her  statement  that  she  had  to  help  mommie  and 
so  could  not  take  the  time  to  ride  even  a  mile  with  him ! 
Being  a  young  person  whose  chief  amusement  had  al- 
ways been  her  "  pretends,"  she  began  unconsciously 
building  an  imaginary  conversation  between  them,  like 
this: 

Ward  would  come  out  of  the  stable  —  or  somewhere 


LITTLE  DEVILS  OF  DOUBT        175 

—  see  Blue  and  hurry  up  to  the  house.  Billy  Louise 
would  be  standing  with  her  back  to  him,  putting  the 
dishes  into  neat  little  piles  in  the  cupboard  perhaps; 
anyway,  doing  something  like  that.  Ward  would  stop 
in  the  doorway  and  say  —  well,  there  were  several  pos- 
sible greetings,  but  Billy  Louise  chose  his  "  'Lo,  Bill !  " 
as  being  the  most  probable.  And  then  he  would"  come 
up  and  take  her  in  his  arms.  (Oh,  she  was  human, 
and  she  was  a  woman,  and  she  was  twenty.  And  Ward 
had  established  a  precedent,  remember,  and  Billy  Louise 
had  not  objected  to  any  great  extent.)  And  —  and — 
(I  'm  going  to  tell  on  Billy  Louise.  She  wiped  a  knife 
for  at  least  fire  minutes  without  knowing  what  she  was 
doing,  and  she  stared  at  a  sunny  spot  on  the  floor  where 
a  sunbeam  came  in  through  a  crack  in  the  wall,  and  she 
smiled  absently,  and  her  cheeks  were  quite  a  bit  redder 
than  usual.) 

"  I  did  n't  expect  to  see  you  here,  Wilhemina-mine." 
"  Oh,  I  was  just  riding  around,  and  I  came  over  to 
see  how  you  dig  dollars  out  of  wolf-dens.     You  said 
you  'd  show  me." 

The  trouble  with  the  conversation  began  right  there. 
Ward  would  be  sure  to  remind  her  of  the  condition  he 
had  made,  to  tell  her  how  he  dug  dollars  out  of  wolf- 
dens  when  she  was  through  with  wanting  to  be  just 
friends.  That  put  it  up  to  Billy  Louise  to  say  she 
would  be  engaged  and  marry  him ;  and  Billy  Louise 
was  not  ready  to  say  that  or  be  that  Her  woman- 
soul  hung  back  from  that  decisive  point  She  would 
not  shut  the  door  upon  her  freedom  and  her  girlish 
dreams  and  her  ideals  and  all  those  evanescent  bub- 
bles which  we  try  to  carry  with  us  into  maturity.  Billy 


176    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Louise  did  not  put  it  that  way,  of  course.  She  only 
reiterated  again  and  again :  "  I  like  you,  but  I  don't 
want  to  marry  anybody.  I  don't  want  to  be  engaged." 

Well,  that  would  probably  settle  Ward's  telling  her 
about  digging  dollars  out  of  wolf-dens  or  anything  else. 
He  had  a  wide  streak  of  stubbornness;  no  one  could 
see  the  set  of  his  chin  when  he  was  in  a  certain  mood 
and  doubt  that.  Billy  Louise  began  to  wish  she  had 
not  come.  She  began  to  feel  quite  certain  that  Ward 
would  be  surprised  and  disgusted  when  he  found  her 
there,  and  would  look  at  her  with  that  faint  curl  of 
the  lip  and  that  fainter  lift  of  the  nostril  above  it, 
which  made  her  go  hot  all  over  with  the  scorn  in  them. 
She  had  seen  him  look  that  way  once  or  twice,  and 
in  spite  of  herself  she  began  to  picture  his  face  with 
that  expression. 

Billy  Louise  was  on  the  point  of  riding  away  a  good 
deal  more  hastily  than  she  had  come,  in  the  hope  that 
Ward  would  not  discover  her  there.  Then  her  own 
stubbornness  came  uppermost,  and  she  told  herself  that 
she  had  a  perfect  right  to  ride  wherever  she  pleased, 
and  that  if  Ward  did  n't  like  it,  he  could  do  the  other 
thing. 

She  went  to  the  door  and  stood  looking  out  for  a 
minute,  wondering  where  he  was.  She  turned  back 
and  stared  around  the  room,  which  somehow  held  the 
imprint  of  his  personality  in  spite  of  its  rough 
simplicity. 

There  was  a  little  window  behind  the  bunk,  and  be- 
side that  a  shelf  filled  with  books  and  smoking  mate- 
rial and  matches.  She  knew  by  the  very  arrangement 
of  that  shelf  and  window  that  Ward  liked  to  lie  there 


LITTLE  DEVILS  OF  DOUBT        177 

on  the  bunk  and  read  while  the  light  lasted.  Well,  he 
was  not  there  now,  at  any  rate.  She  went  over  and 
looked  at  the  titles  of  the  books,  though  she  had  ex- 
amined them  with  interest  only  yesterday.  There  was 
Burns ;  and  she  knew  why  it  was  he  could  repeat  Tam 
O'Shanter  so  readily  with  never  a  moment's  hesitation. 
There  were  two  volumes  of  Scott  —  Lady  of  the-  Lake 
and  other  poems,  much  thumbed  and  with  a  cigarette 
burn  on  the  front  cover,  and  Eenilworth.  There  were 
several  books  of  Kipling's,  mostly  verses,  and  beside  it 
Morgan's  Ancient  Society,  with  the  corners  broken,  and 
a  fine-print  volume  of  Shakespeare's  plays.  Then  there 
was  a  pile  of  magazines  and  beyond  them  a  stack  of 
books  whose  subjects  varied  from  Balzac  to  strange, 
scientific-sounding  names.  At  the  other  end  of  the 
shelf,  within  easy  reach  from  one  lying  upon  the  bunk, 
was  a  cigar-box  full  of  smoking  tobacco,  a  half-dozen 
books  of  cigarette  papers,  and  several  blocks  of  the  small, 
evil-smelling  matches  which  men  of  the  outdoors  carry 
for  their  compact  form  and  slow,  steady  blaze. 

At  the  head  of  the  bed  hung  a  flour-sack  half  full 
of  some  hard,  lumpy  stuff  which  Billy  Louise  had  not 
noticed  before.  She  felt  the  bag  tentatively,  could  not 
guess  its  contents,  and  finally  took  it  down  and  untied 
it.  Within  were  irregular  scraps  and  strips  of  stuff 
hard  as  bone  —  a  puzzle  still  to  one  unfamiliar  with 
the  frontier.  Billy  Louise  pulled  out  a  little  piece,  nib- 
bled a  corner,  and  pronounced,  "  M-mm !  Jerky !  I  'm 
going  to  swipe  some  of  that,"  which  she  proceeded  to 
do,  to  the  extent  of  filling  her  pocket.  For  to  those 
who  have  learned  to  like  it,  jerked  venison  is  quite  as 
desirable  as  milk  chocolate  or  any  other  nibbly  tid-bit. 


178    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

The  opposite  wall  had  sacks  of  flour  stacked  against 
it,  and  boxes  of  staple  canned  goods,  such  as  corn  and 
tomatoes  and  milk  and  peaches.  A  box  of  canned 
peaches  stood  at  the  head  of  the  bed,  and  upon  that 
a  case  of  tomatoes.  Ward  used  them  for  a  table  and 
set  the  lantern  there  when  he  wanted  to  read  in  bed. 
"  He  's  got  a  pretty  good  supply  of  grub,"  was  the  ver- 
dict of  Billy  Louise,  sizing  up  the  assortment  while 
she  nibbled  at  the  piece  of  jerky.  "  I  wonder  where 
he  is,  anyway  ?  "  And  a  moment  later :  "  He  ought  n't 
to  hang  his  best  clothes  up  like  that ;  they  '11  be  all  wrin- 
kled when  he  wants  to  put  them  on." 

She  went  over  and  disposed  of  the  best  clothes  to 
her  liking,  and  shook  out  the  dust.  She  had  to  own 
to  herself  that  for  a  bachelor  Ward  was  very  orderly, 
though  he  did  let  his  trousers  hang  down  over  the  flour- 
sacks  in  a  way  to  whiten  their  hems.  She  hung  them 
in-  a  different  place. 

But  where  was  Ward?  Billy  Louise  bethought  her 
that  Blue  deserved  something  to  eat  after  that  hard  ride, 
and  led  him  down  to  the  stable.  There  was  no  sign 
of  Battler,  and  Billy  Louise  wondered  anew  at  Ward's 
absence.  It  did  not  seem  consistent  with  his  haste  to 
leave  the  Wolverine  and  his  frequent  assertion  that 
he  must  get  to  work.  From  the  stable  door  she  could  look 
over  practically  the  whole  creek-bottom  within  his  fence, 
and  she  could  see  the  broad  sweep  of  the  hills  on  either 
side.  On  her  way  back  to  the  cabin,  she  tried  to  track 
Rattler,  but  there  were  several  stock-trails  leading  in 
different  directions,  and  the  soil  was  too  dry  to  leave 
any  distinguishing  marks. 

She  waited  for  an  hour  or  two,  sitting  in  the  door- 


LITTLE  DEVILS  OF  DOUBT        179 

way,  nibbling  jerky  and  trying  to  read  a  mazagine. 
Then  she  found  a  stub  of  pencil,  tore  out  an  advertising 
page  which  had  a  wide  margin,  wrote :  "  I  don't  think 
you  're  a  bit  nice.  Why  don't  you  stay  home  when  a 
fellow  comes  to  see  you  ? "  This  she  folded  neatly 
and  put  in  the  cigar-box  of  tobacco  over  Ward's  pillow. 
It  never  once  occurred  to  her  that  Ward,  when  he  found 
the  note,  would  believe  she  had  placed  it  there  the  day 
before,  and  would  never  guess  by  its  text  that  she  had 
made  a  second  trip  to  his  claim. 

She  resaddled  Blue  and  rode  away  more  depressed 
than  ever,  because  her  depression  was  now  mixed  with 
a  disappointment  keener  than  she  would  have  cared 
to  acknowledge,  even  to  herself. 


CHAPTER  XIII 


THE  CORKAL,  IN  THE  CANYON 

WHEKE  the  creek  trail  crossed  the  Big  Hill  and 
then  swung  to  the  left  that  it  might  follow  the 
easy  slopes  of  Cedar  Creek,  Blue  turned  off  to  the 
right  of  his  own  accord,  as  if  he  took  it  for  granted 
that  his  lady  would  return  the  way  she  had  come.  His 
lady  had  not  thought  anything  about  it,  but  after  a 
brief  hesitation  she  decided  that  Blue  should  have  his 
way;  after  all,  it  would  simplify  her  explanations  of 
the  long  ride  if  she  came  home  by  way  of  the  canyon. 
She  could  say  that  she  had  ridden  farther  out  into 
the  hills  than  usual,  which  was  true  enough. 

Billy  Louise  did  not  own  such  a  breeder  of  blues  as 
a  lazy  liver,  her  nerves  were  in  fine  working  order,  and 
her  digestion  was  perfect;  and  it  is  a  well-known  fact 
that  a  trouble  must  be  born  of  reality  rather  than  imagi- 
nation, if  it  would  ride  far  behind  the  cantle.  Billy 
Louise  was  late,  and  already  the  shadows  lay  like  long 
draperies  upon  the  hills  she  faced:  long,  purple  cloaks 
ruffed  with  golden  yellow  and  patterned  with  indigo 
patches,  which  were  the  pines,  and  splotches  of  dark 
green,  which  were  the  thickets  of  alder  and  quaking 
aspens.  She  could  n't  feel  depressed  for  very  long,  and 
before  she  had  climbed  over  the  first  rugged  ridge  that 
reached  out  like  a  crooked  finger  into  the  narrow  val- 
ley, she  was  humming  under  her  breath  and  riding 


THE  CORRAL  IN  THE  CANYON     181 

with  the  reins  dropped  loose  upon  Blue's  neck,  so  that 
he  went  where  the  way  pleased  him  best.  Before  she 
was  down  that  ridge  and  beginning  to  climb  the  next, 
she  was  singing  softly  a  song  her  mother  had  taught 
her  long  ago,  when  she  was  seven  or  so : 

"The  years  creep  slowly  by,  Lorena, 
The  snow  is  on  the  grass  again; 
The  sun  'a  low  down  the  sky,  Lorena  —  " 

Blue  gathered  himself  together  and  jumped  a  wash- 
out three  feet  across  and  goodness  knows  how  deep  and 
jarred  that  melancholy  melody  quite  out  of  Billy 
Louise's  mind.  When  she  had  settled  herself  again  to 
the  slow  climb,  she  broke  out  with  what  she  called 
Ward's  Come-all-ye,  and  with  a  twinkle  of  eye  and  both 
dimples  showing  deep,  went  on  with  a  very  slight  in- 
terruption in  her  singing. 

"  '  Oh,  a  ten-dollar  hoss  and  a  forty-dollar  saddle  '  — 
that 's  you  Blue.  You  don't  amount  to  nothing  nohow, 
doing  jackrabbit  stunts  like  that  when  I  'm  not  look- 
ing! 'Coma  ti  yi  youpy,  youpy-a.' '  She  watched 
a  cloud  shadow  sweep  like  a  great  bird  over  a  sunny 
slope  and  murmured  while  she  watched :  "  Cloud-boats 
sailing  sunny  seas  —  is  that  original,  or  have  I  cribbed 
it  from  some  honest-to-goodness  poet?  Blue,  if  fate 
had  n't  made  a  cowpuncher  of  me,  I  'd  be  chewing  up 
lead-pencils  trying  to  find  a  rhyme  for  alfalfa,  maybe. 
And  where  would  you  be,  you  old  skate  ?  If  the  Louise 
of  me  had  been  developed  at  the  expense  of  the  Billy 
of  me,  and  I  'd  taken  to  making  battenburg  doilies  with 
butterflies  in  the  corners,  and  embroidering  corset  covers 
till  I  put  my  eyes  out,  and  writing  poetry  on  Sundays 
when  mommie  would  n't  let  me  sew.  I  wonder  if 


182    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Ward  —  Maybe  he  'd  have  liked  me  better  if  I  'd  lived 
up  to  the  Louise  and  cut  out  the  Billy  part.  I  'd  be 
horns,  right  now,  asking  mommie  whether  I  should  use 
soda  or  baking-powder  to  make  my  muffins  with  —  Oh, 
gracious !  "  She  leaned  over  and  caught  a  handful  of 
Blue's  slatey  mane  and  tousled  it,  till  he  laid  his  ears 
flat  on  his  head  and  flipped  his  nose  around  to  show 
her  that  his  teeth  were  bared  to  the  gums.  Billy  Louise 
laughed  and  gave  another  yank. 

"  You  wish  I  were  an  embroidering  young  lady,  do 
you  ?  Aw,  where  would  you  be,  if  you  did  n't  have  me 
to  devil  the  life  out  of  you  ?  Well,  why  don't  you  take 
a  chunk  out  of  me,  then?  Don't  be  an  old  bluffer, 
Blue.  If  you  want  to  eat  me,  why,  go  to  it ;  only  you 
don't.  You  're  just  a-bluffing.  You  like  to  be  tousled 
and  you  know  it ;  else  why  do  you  tag  me  all  over  the 
place  when  I  don't  want  you  ?  Huh  ?  That 's  to  pay 
you  back  for  jumping  that  washout  when  I  was  n't 
looking."  A  twitch  of  the  mane  here  brought  Blue's 
head  around  again  with  all  his  teeth  showing.  "  And 
this  is  for  jarring  that  lovely,  weepy  song  out  of  me. 
You  know  you  hate  it;  you  always  do  lay  back  your 
ears  when  I  sing  that,  but  —  oh,  all  right  —  when  I 
sing,  then.  But  you  've  got  to  stand  for  it.  I  Ve  been 
an  indigo  bag  all  day  long,  and  I  'm  going  to  sing  if 
I  want  to.  Fate  made  me  a  lady  cowpunch  instead  of 
a  poet-ess,  and  you  can't  stop  me  from  singing  when  I 
feel  it  in  my  system." 

She  began  again  with  the  "  Ten-dollar  hoss  and  forty- 
dollar  saddle,"  and  sang  as  much  of  the  old  trail  song 
as  she  had  ever  heard  and  could  remember,  substituting 
milder  expletires  now  and  then  and  laughing  at  herself 


THE  CORRAL  IN  THE  CANYON     183 

for  doing  it,  because  a  self-confessed  "  lady  cowpunch  " 
is  after  all  hedged  about  by  certain  limitations  in  the 
matter  of  both  speech  and  conduct  She  did  not  sing 
it  all,  but  she  sang  enough  to  last  over  a  mile  of  rough 
going,  and  she  did  not  have  to  repeat  many  verses  to 
do  it. 

Blue,  because  she  still  left  the  reins  loose,  chose  his 
own  trail,  which  was  easier  than  that  which  they  had 
taken  in  the  forenoon,  but  more  roundabout.  Billy 
Louise,  observing  how  he  avoided  rocky  patches  and 
went  considerably  out  of  his  way  to  keep  his  feet  on 
soft  soil,  stopped  in  the  middle  of  a  "  Coma  ti  yi  "  to 
ask  him  solicitously  if  he  were  getting  tender-footed; 
and  promised  him  a  few  days  off,  in  the  pasture.  There- 
after she  encouraged  the  roundabout  progress,  even 
though  she  knew  it  would  keep  them  in  the  hills  until 
dusk;  for  she  was  foolishly  careful  of  Blue,  however 
much  she  might  tease  him  and  call  him  names. 

Quite  suddenly,  just  at  sundown,  her  cheerful  jour- 
neying was  interrupted  in  a  most  unexpected  manner. 
She  was  dreaming  along  a  flat-bottomed  canyon,  looking 
for  an  easy  way  across,  when  Blue  threw  up  his  head, 
listened  with  his  ears  thrust  forward,  and  sniffed  with 
widened  nostrils.  From  his  manner,  almost  anything 
might  lie  ahead  of  them.  And  because  certain  of  the 
possibilities  would  call  for  quick  action  if  any  of  them 
became  a  certainty,  Billy  Louise  twisted  her  gun-belt 
around  so  that  her  six-shooter  swung  within  easy  reach 
of  her  hand.  With  her  fingers  she  made  sure  that 
the  gun  was  loose  in  its  holster  and  kicked  Blue  mildly 
as  a  hint  to  go  on  and  see  what  it  was  all  about. 

Blue  went  forward,  stepping  easily  on  the  soft  side- 


184    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

hill.  In  rough  country,  whatever  you  want  to  see  is 
nearly  always  around  a  sharp  bend;  you  read  it  so  in 
the  stories  and  books  of  travels,  and  when  you  ride  out 
in  the  hills,  you  find  it  so  in  reality.  Billy  Louise  rode 
for  three  or  four  minutes  before  she  received  any  inkling 
of  what  lay  ahead,  though  Blue's  behavior  during  that 
interval  had  served  to  reassure  her  somewhat.  He  was 
interested  still  in  what  lay  just  out  of  sight  beyond  a 
shoulder  of  the  hill,  but  he  did  not  appear  to  be  in 
the  least  alarmed.  Therefore,  Billy  Louise  knew  it 
couldn't  be  a  bear,  at  any  rate. 

They  came  to  the  point  of  the  hill's  shoulder,  and 
Billy  Louise  tightened  the  reins  instinctively  while  she 
stared  at  what  lay  revealed  beneath.  The  head  of  the 
gulch  was  blocked  with  a  corral  —  small,  high,  hidden 
from  view  on  all  sides  save  where  she  stood,  by  the 
jagged  walls  of  rock  and  heavy  aspen  thickets  beyond. 

The  corral  was  but  the  setting  for  what  Billy  Louise 
stared  at  so  unbelievingly.  A  horseman  had  ridden  out 
of  the  corral  just  as  she  came  into  sight,  had  turned 
a  sharp  corner,  and  had  disappeared  by  riding  up  the 
same  slope  she  occupied,  but  farther  along,  and  in  a 
shallow  depression  which  hid  him  completely  after  that 
one  brief  glimpse. 

Of  course,  the  gulch  was  dusky  with  deep  shadows, 
and  she  had  had  only  a  glimpse.  But  the  horse  was 
a  dark  bay,  and  the  rider  was  slim  and  tall  and  wore 
a  gray  hat.  The  heart  of  Billy  Louise  paused  a  mo- 
ment from  its  steady  beating  and  then  sank  heavily 
under  a  great  weight.  She  was  range-born  and  range- 
bred.  She  had  sat  wide-eyed  on  her  daddy's  knees  and 
heard  him  tell  of  losses  in  cattle  and  horses  and  of  cor- 


THE  CORRAL  IN  THE  CANYON  185 

rals  found  hidden  away  in  strange  places  and  of  un- 
known riders  who  disappeared  mysteriously  into  the 
hills.  She  had  heard  of  these  things ;  they  were  a  part 
of  the  stage  setting  for  wild  dramas  of  the  West. 

With  a  white  line  showing  around  her  close-pressed 
lips  and  a  horror  in  her  wide-eyed  glance,  she  rode 
quietly  along  the  side  of  the  bluff  toward  where  she 
had  seen  the  horseman  disappear.  He  was  riding  a 
dark  bay,  and  he  wore  a  gray  hat  and  dark  coat,  and 
he  was  slim  and  tall.  Billy  Louise  made  a  sound  that 
was  close  to  a  groan  and  set  her  teeth  hard  together 
afterwards. 

She  reached  the  hillside  just  above  the  corral.  There 
were  cattle  down  there,  moving  uneasily  about  in  the 
shadows.  Of  the  horseman  there  was  of  course  no  sign ; 
just  the  corral,  and  a  few  restless  cattle  shut  inside, 
and  on  the  hilltops  a  soft,  rose-violet  glow,  and  in 
the  sky  beyond  a  blend  of  purple  and  deep  crimson  to 
show  where  the  sun  had  been.  Close  beside  her  as 
she  stood  looking  down  a  little,  gray  bird  twittered 
wistfully. 

Billy  Louise  took  a  deep  breath  and  rode  on,  angling 
slightly  up  the  bluff,  so  that  she  could  cross  at  the  head 
of  the  gulch.  It  was  very  quiet,  very  peaceful,  and 
wildly  beautiful,  this  jumble  of  hills  and  deep-gashed 
canyons.  But  Billy  Louise  felt  as  though  something 
precious  had  died.  She  should  have  gone  down  and 
investigated  and  turned  those  cattle  loose;  that  is,  if 
she  dared.  Well,  she  dared ;  it  was  not  fear  that  held 
her  to  the  upper  slopes.  She  did  not  want  to  know 
what  brand  they  bore  or  whether  an  iron  had  beared 
fresh  marks. 


186    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

"  Oh,  God !  "  she  said  once  aloud ;  and  there  was  a 
prayer  and  a  protest,  a  curse  and  a  question  all  in  those 
two  words. 

So  trouble  —  trouble  that  sickened  her  ver y  soul  and 
choked  her  into  dumbness  and  squeezed  her  heart  so 
that  the  ache  of  it  was  agony  —  came  and  rode  with  her 
through  the  brooding  dusk  of  the  canyons  and  over  the 
brighter  hilltops. 

Billy  Louise  did  not  remember  anything  much  about 
that  ride,  except  that  she  was  glad  the  way  was  long. 
Blue  carried  her  steadily  on  and  on  and  needed  no 
guiding,  and  though  Wolverine  canyon  was  black  dark 
in  most  places,  she  liked  it  so. 

John  Pringle  was  standing  by  the  gate  waiting  for 
her,  which  was  unusual,  if  Billy  Louise  had  been  nor- 
mal enough  to  notice  it.  He  came  forward  and  took 
Blue  by  the  bridle  when  she  dismounted,  which  was 
still  more  unusual,  for  Billy  Louise  always  cared  for 
her  own  horse  both  from  habit  and  preference. 

"  Yor  mommie,  she  's  sick,"  he  announced  stolidly. 
"  She  's  worry  you  maybe  hurt  yoreself.  Yo  better  go, 
maybe." 

Billy  Louise  did  not  answer,  but  ran  up  the  path  to 
the  cabin.  "  Oh,  has  everything  got  to  happen  all  at 
once  ?  "  she  cried  aloud,  protesting  against  the  implaca- 
bleness  of  misfortune. 

"  Yor  mommie  's  sick,"  Phoebe  announced  in  a  whis- 
per. "  She  's  crazy  'cause  you  been  so  long.  She  's  aw- 
ful bad,  I  guess." 

Billy  Louise  said  nothing,  but  went  in  where  her 
mother  lay  moaning,  her  face  white  and  turned  to  the 
ceiling.  Billy  Louise  herself  had  pulled  up  her  re- 


THE  CORRAL  IN  THE  CANYON  187 

serves  of  strength  and  cheerfulness,  and  the  fingers  she 
laid  on  her  mother's  forehead  were  cool  and  steady. 

"  Poor  old  mommie !  Is  it  that  nasty  lumbago 
again  ? "  she  asked  caressingly  and  did  not  permit  the 
tiniest  shade  of  anxiety  to  spoil  the  reassurance  of  her 
presence.  "  I  went  farther  than  usual,  and  Blue 's 
pretty  tender,  so  I  eased  him  along,  and  I  'm  fearfully 
late.  I  suppose  you  've  been  having  all  kinds  of  dis- 
asters happening  to  me."  She  was  passing  her  fingers 
soothingly  over  her  mother's  forehead  while  she  ex* 
plained,  and  she  saw  that  her  mother  did  not  moan  so 
much  as  when  she  came  into  the  room. 

"  Of  course  I  worried.  I  wish  you  would  n't  take 
them  long  rides.  Oh,  I  guess  it 's  lumbago  —  mostly  — 
but  seems  like  it  ain't,  either.  The  pain  seems  to  be 
mostly  in  my  side."  She  stirred  restlessly  and  moaned 
again. 

"  What 's  Phoebe  been  doing  for  it  ?  You  don't  seem 
to  have  any  fever,  mommie  —  and  that 's  a  good  thing. 
I  '11  go  fix  you  one  of  those  dandy  spice  poultices.  Had 
any  supper,  mommie  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  could  n't  eat.  Phoebe  made  a  hop  poultice, 
but  it 's  awful  soppy." 

"  Well,  never  mind.  Your  dear  daughter  is  on  the 
job  now.  She  '11  have  you  all  comfy  in  just  about  two 
minutes.  Head  ache,  mum  ?  All  right.  I  '11  just  shake 
up  your  pilly  and  bring  you  such  a  dandy  spice  poultice 
I  expect  you  '11  want  to  eat  it !  "  Billy  Louise's  voice 
was  soft  and  had  a  broody  sweetness  when  she  wished 
it  so,  that  soothed  more  than  medicine.  Her  mother's 
eyes  closed  wearily  while  the  girl  talked;  the  muscles 
of  her  face  relaxed  a  little  from  their  look  of  pain. 


188    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Billy  Louise  bent  and  laid  her  lips  lightly  on  her  moth- 
er's cheek.  "Poor  old  mommie!  I  'd  have  come  home 
a-running  if  I  'd  known  she  was  sick  and  had  to  have 
nasty,  soppy  stuff." 

In  the  kitchen  a  very  different  Billy  Louise  meas- 
ured spices,  and  asked  a  question  now  and  then  in  a 
whisper,  and  breathed  with  a  repressed  unevenness  which 
betrayed  the  strain  she  was  under. 

"  Tell  John  to  saddle  up  and  go  for  the  doctor, 
Phoebe,  and  don't  let  mommie  know,  whatever  you  do. 
This  is  n't  her  lumbago  at  all.  I  don't  know  what  it 
is.  I  wonder  if  a  hot  turpentine  cloth  would  n't  be 
better  than  this  ?  I  've  a  good  mind  to  try  it ;  her  eyes 
are  glassy  with  fever,  and  her  skin  is  cold  as  a  fish. 
You  tell  John  to  hurry  up.  He  can  ride  Boxer.  Tell 
him  I  want  him  to  get  a  doctor  here  by  to-morrow  noon 
if  he  has  to  kill  his  horse  doing  it." 

"  Is  she  that  bad  ?  "  Phrebe's  black  eyes  glistened 
with  consternation.  "  She  's  groaned  all  day  and  shook 
her  head  like  this  all  time." 

"  Oh,  stop  looking  like  that !  ~N"o  wonder  she  's  sick, 
if  you've  stood  over  her  with  that  kind  of  a  face  on 
you.  You  look  as  if  someone  were  dead  in  the  house !  " 

"  I  'm  skeered  of  sick  folks.  Honest,  it  gives  me 
shivers." 

"  Well,  keep  out  then.  Make  some  fresh  tea,  Phcebe 
—  or  no,  make  some  good,  strong  coffee.  I  '11  need  it, 
if  I  'm  up  all  night.  Make  it  strong,  Phrebe.  Hurry, 
and  — "  She  stopped  short  and  ran  into  the  bed- 
room, called  there  by  her  mother's  cry  of  pain. 

That  night  took  its  toll  of  Billy  Louise  and  left  a 
seared  place  in  her  memory.  It  was  a  night  of  snap- 


THE  CORRAL  IN  THE  CANYON     189 

ping  fire  in  the  cook-stove  that  hot  water  might  be  al- 
ways ready ;  of  tireless  struggle  with  the  pain  that  came 
and  tortured,  retired  sullenly  from  Billy  Louise's  stub- 
born fighting  with  poultices  and  turpentine  cloths  and 
every  homely  remedy  she  had  ever  heard  of,  and  came 
again  just  when  she  thought  she  had  won  the  fight. 

There  was  no  time  to  give  thought  to  the  trouble 
that  had  ridden  home  with  her,  though  its  presence  was 
like  a  black  shadow  behind  her  while  she  worked  and 
went  to  and  fro  between  bedroom  and  kitchen,  and 
fought  that  tearing  pain. 

She  met  the  dawn  hollow-eyed  and  so  tired  she  could 
not  worry  very  much  about  anything.  Her  mother 
slept  uneasily  to  prove  that  the  battle  had  not  gone  alto- 
gether against  the  girl  who  had  fought  the  night 
through.  She  had  her  reward  in  full  measure  when  the 
doctor  came,  in  the  heat  of  noon,  and  after  terrible 
minutes  of  suspense  for  Billy  Louise  while  he  counted 
pulse  and  took  temperature  and  studied  symptoms,  told 
her  that  she  had  done  well,  and  that  she  and  her  homely 
poultices  had  held  back  tragedy  from  that  house. 

Billy  Louise  lay  down  upon  the  couch  out  on  the 
back  porch  and  slept  heavily  for  three  hours,  while 
Phrebe  and  the  doctor  watched  over  her  mother. 

She  woke  with  a  start.  She  had  been  dreaming, 
and  the  dream  had  taken  from  her  cheeks  what  little 
color  her  night  vigil  had  left.  She  had  dreamed  that5 
Ward  was  in  danger,  that  men  were  hunting  him  for 
what  he  had  done  at  that  corral.  The  corral  seemed 
the  center  of  a  fight  between  Ward  and  the  men.  She 
dreamed  that  he  came  to  her,  and  that  she  must  hide 
him  away  and  save  him.  But  though  she  took  him  to 


190    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Minervy's  cave,  which  was  secret  enough  for  her  pur- 
pose, yet  she  could  not  feel  that  he  was  safe,  even  there. 
There  was  something  —  some  menace. 

Billy  Louise  went  softly  into  the  house,  tiptoed  to 
the  door  of  her  mother's  room,  and  saw  that  she  lay 
quiet,  with  her  eyes  closed.  Beside  the  window  the 
doctor  sat  with  his  spectacles  far  down  toward  the 
end  of  his  nose,  reading  a  pale-green  pamphlet  that  he 
must  have  brought  in  his  pocket.  Phoehe  was  down  by 
the  creek,  washing  clothes  in  the  shade  of  a  willow- 
clump. 

She  went  into  her  own  room,  still  walking  on  her 
toes.  In  her  trunk  was  a  blue  plush  box  of  the  kind 
that  is  given  to  one  at  Christmas.  It  was  faded,  and 
the  clasp  was  showing  brassy  at  the  edges.  Sitting  upon 
her  bed  with  the  box  in  her  lap,  Billy  Louise  pawed 
hastily  in  the  jumble  of  keepsakes  it  held:  an  eagle's 
claw  which  she  meant  sometime  to  have  mounted  for 
a  brooch;  three  or  four  arrowheads  of  the  shiny,  black 
stuff  which  the  Indians  were  said  to  have  brought  from 
Yellowstone  Park;  a  knot  of  green  ribbon  which  she 
had  worn  to  a  St.  Patrick's  Day  dance  in  Boise;  rat- 
tlesnake rattles  of  all  sizes ;  several  folded  clippings  — 
verses  that  had  caught  her  fancy  and  had  been  put 
away  and  forgotten ;  an  amber  bead  she  had  found  once. 
She  turned  the  box  upside  down  in  her  lap  and  shook 
it.  It  must  be  there  —  the  thing  she  sought ;  the  thing 
that  had  troubled  her  most  in  her  dream;  the  thing 
that  was  a  menace  while  it  existed.  It  was  at  the  very 
bottom  of  the  box,  caught  in  a  corner.  She  took  it 
out  with  fingers  that  trembled,  crumpled  it  into  a  little 
ball  so  that  she  could  not  read  what  it  said,  straight- 


THE  CORRAL  IN  THE  CANYON     191 

ened  it  immediately,  and  read  it  reluctantly  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end  where  the  last  word  was  clipped 
short  with  hasty  scissors.  A  paragraph  cut  from  a  news- 
paper, it  was;  yellow  and  frayed  from  contact  with 
other  objects,  telling  of  things  — 

Billy  Louise  bit  her  lips  until  they  hurt,  but  she 
could  not  keep  back  the  tears  that  came  hot  and  stinging 
while  she  read.  She  slid  the  little  heap  of  odds  and 
ends  to  the  middle  of  the  bed,  crushed  the  clipping  into, 
her  palm,  and  went  out  stealthily  into  the  immaculate 
kitchen.  As  if  she  were  being  spied  upon,  she  went 
cautiously  to  the  stove,  lifted  a  lid,  and  dropped  the 
clipping  in  where  the  wood  blazed  the  brightest.  She 
watched  it  flare  and  become  nothing  —  not  even  a  pinch 
of  ashes;  the  clipping  was  not  very  large.  When  it 
was  gone,  she  put  the  lid  back  and  went  tiptoeing  to  the 
door.  Then  she  ran. 

Phoebe  was  down  by  the  creek,  so  Billy  Louise  went 
to  the  stable,  through  that  and  on  beyond,  still  run- 
ning. Farther  down  was  a  grassy  nook  —  on,  beyond 
the  road.  She  went  there  and  hid  behind  the  willows, 
where  she  could  cry  and  no  one  be  the  wiser.  But 
she  could  not  cry  the  ache  out  of  her  heart,  nor  the 
rebellion  against  the  hurt  that  life  had  given  her.  If 
she  could  only  have  burned  memory  when  she  burned 
that  clipping!  She  could  still  believe  and  be  happy, 
if  only  she  could  forget  the  things  it  said. 

Phosbe  called  her,  after  a  long  while  had  passed. 
Billy  Louise  bathed  her  face  in  the  'cold  water  of  the 
Wolverine,  used  her  handkerchief  for  a  towel,  and  went 
back  to  take  up  the  duties  life  had  laid  upon  her.  The 
doctor's  team  was  hitched  to  the  light  buggy  he  drove, 


192    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

and  the  doctor  was  standing  in  the  doorway  with  his 
square  medicine-case  in  his  hand,  waiting  to  give  her  a 
few  final  directions  before  he  left. 

He  was  like  so  many  doctors ;  he  seemed  to  be  afraid 
to  tell  the  whole  truth  about  his  patient.  He  stuck  to 
evasive  optimism  and  then  neutralized  the  reassurances 
he  uttered  by  emphasizing  the  necessity  of  being  noti- 
fied if  Mrs.  MacDonald  showed  any  symptoms  of  an- 
other attack. 

"  Don't  wait,"  he  told  Billy  Louise  gravely.  "  Send 
for  me  at  once  if  she  complains  of  that  pain  again, 
or  appears  —  " 

"  But  what  is  it  ?  "  Billy  Louise  would  not  be  put 
off  by  any  vagueness. 

The  doctor  told  Billy  Louise  in  terms  that  carried 
no  meaning  whatever  to  her  mind.  She  gathered  merely 
that  it  was  rather  serious  if  it  persisted  —  whatever 
it  was  —  and  that  she  must  not  leave  her  mommie  for 
many  hours  at  a  time,  because  she  might  have  another 
attack  at  any  time.  The  doctor  told  her,  however, 
in  plain  English  that  mommie  was  well  over  this  attack 
—  whatever  it  was  —  and  that  she  need  only  be  kept 
quiet  for  a  few  days  and  given  the  medicine  —  what- 
ever that  was  —  that  he  had  left. 

"  It  does  seem  as  if  everything  is  all  muffled  up  in 
mystery !  "  she  complained,  when  he  drove  away.  "  I 
can  fight  anything  I  can  see,  but  when  I  Ve  got  to  go 
blindfolded  —  "  She  brushed  her  fingers  across  her 
eyes  and  glanced  hurriedly  into  the  little  looking-glass 
that  hung  beside  the  door.  "  Yes,  mommie,  just  a  min- 
ute," she  called  cheerfully. 

She  ran  into  her  own  room,  grabbed  a  can  of  talcum, 


THE  CORRAL  IN  THE  CANYON    193 

and  did  not  wait  to  see  whether  she  applied  it  evenly 
to  her  telltale  eyelids,  but  dabbed  at  them  on  the  way 
to  her  mother's  room. 

"  Doctor  says  you  're  all  right,  mommie ;  only  you 
must  n't  go  digging  post-holes  or  shoveling  hay  for 
awhile." 

"  !No,  I  guess  not  I  "  Her  mother  responded  uncon- 
sciously to  the  stimulation  of  Billy  Louise's  tone.  "  I 
could  n't  dig  holes  with  a  teaspoon,  I  'm  that  weak  and 
useless.  Did  he  say  what  it  was,  Billy  Louise  ?  "  The 
sick  are  always  so  curious  about  their  illnesses  I 

"  Oh,  your  lumbago  got  to  scrapping  with  your  liver. 
I  forget  the  name  he  gave  it,  but  it 's  nothing  to  worry 
about."  Billy  Louise  had  imagination,  remember. 

"  I  guess  he  'd  think  it  was  something  to  worry 
about,  if  he  had  it,"  her  mother  retorted  fretfully,  but 
reassured  nevertheless  by  the  casual  manner  of  Billy 
Louise.  "  I  believe  I  could  eat  a  little  mite  of  toast 
and  drink  some  tea,"  she  added  tentatively. 

"  And  an  egg  poached  soft  if  you  want  it,*  mom. 
Phoebe  just  brought  in  the  eggs."  Billy  Louise  went 
out  humming  unconcernedly  under  her  breath  as  if  she 
had  not  a  care  beyond  the  proper  toasting  of  the  bread 
and  brewing  of  the  tea. 

One  need  not  go  to  war  or  voyage  to  the  far  corners 
of  the  earth  to  find  the  stuff  heroes  are  made  of. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

EACH    IN    HIS    OWN    TRAIL 

SINCE  nothing  in  this  world  is  absolutely  immutable 
—  the  human  emotions  least  of  all,  perhaps  — 
Billy  Louise  did  not  hold  changeless  her  broken  faith 
in  Ward.  She  saw  it  broken  into  fragments  before  the 
evidence  of  her  own  eyes,  and  the  fragments  ground 
to  dust  beneath  the  weight  of  what  she  knew  of  his  past 
—  things  he  had  told  her  himself.  So  she  thought  there 
was  no  more  faith  in  him,  and  her  heart  went  empty  and 
aching  through  the  next  few  days. 

But,  since  Billy  Louise  was  human,  and  a  woman  — 
not  altogether  because  she  was  twenty !  —  she  stopped, 
after  awhile,  gathered  carefully  the  dust  of  her  dead 
faith,  and,  like  God,  she  began  to  create.  First  she 
fashioned  doubts  of  her  doubt.  How  did  she  know 
she  had  not  made  a  mistake,  there  at  that  corral  ?  Other 
men  wore  gray  hats  and  rode  dark  bay  horses;  other 
men  were  slim  and  tall  —  and  she  had  only  had  a 
glimpse  after  all,  and  the  light  was  deceptive  down 
there  in  the  shadows.  When  that  first  doubt  was 
molded,  and  she  had  breathed  into  it  the  breath  of  life 
so  that  it  stood  sturdily  before  her,  she  took  heart  and 
created  reasons,  a  whole  company  of  them,  to  tell  her 
why  she  ought  to  give  Ward  the  benefit  of  the  doubt. 
She  remembered  what  Charlie  Fox  had  said  about  cir- 


EACH  IN  HIS  OWN  TRAIL      195 

cumstantial  evidence.  She  would  not  make  the  mis- 
take he  had  made. 

So  she  spent  other  days  and  long,  wakeful  nights. 
And  since  it  seemed  impossible  to  bring  her  faith  to 
life  again  just  as  it  had  been,  with  the  glamor  pf  ro- 
mance and  the  sweetness  of  pity  and  the  strength  of  her 
own  innocence  to  make  it  a  beautiful  faith  indeed,  she 
used  all  her  innocence  and  all  her  pity  and  a  little  of 
romance  and  created  something  even  sweeter  than  her 
untried  faith  had  been.  She  had  a  new  element  to 
strengthen  it.  She  knew  that  she  loved  Ward ;  she  had 
learned  that  from  the  hurt  it  had  given  her  to  lose 
her  faith  in  him. 

That  was  the  record  of  the  inner  Billy  Louise  which 
no  one  ever  saw.  The  Billy  Louise  which  her  little 
world  knew  went  her  way  unchanged,  except  in  small 
details  that  escaped  the  notice  of  those  nearest  her.  A 
look  in  her  eyes,  for  one  thing ;  a  hurt,  questioning  look 
that  was  sometimes  rebellious  as  well ;  a  droop  of  her 
mouth,  also,  when  she  was  off  her  guard;  a  sad,  tired 
little  droop  that  told  of  the  weight  of  responsibility  and 
worry  she  was  carrying. 

Ward  observed  both,  the  minute  he  saw  her  on  the 
trail.  He  had  come  across  country  on  the  chance  that 
she  might  be  riding  out  that  way,  and  he  had  come 
upon  her  unawares  while  she  and  Blue  were  staring 
out  over  the  desert  from  the  height  they  had  attained 
in  the  hills. 

"  'Lo,  Bill !  "  he  said,  when  he  was  quite  close,  and 
held  himself  ready  to  meet  whatever  mood  she  might 
present. 

She  turned  her  head  quickly  and  looked  at  him,  and 


196    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

the  hurt  look  was  still  in  her  eyes,  the  droop  still  showed 
at  her  lips.  And  Ward  knew  they  had  been  there 
before  she  saw  him. 

"  Wha  's  molla,  Bill  ?  "  he  asked,  in  the  tone  that  was 
calculated  to  invite  an  unburdening  of  her  troubles. 

"  Oh,  nothing  in  particular.  Mommie  's  been  awfully 
sick,  and  I  'm  always  worried  when  I  'm  away  from 
the  ranch,  for  fear  she  '11  have  another  spell  while  I  'in 
gone.  The  doctor  said  she  might  have,  any  time.  Were 
you  headed  for  our  place?  If  you  are,  come  on;  I 
was  just  starting  back.  I  don't  dare  be  away  any 
longer."  If  that  were  a  real  unburdening,  Ward  was 
an  unreasonable  young  man.  Billy  Louise  looked  at 
him  again,  and  this  time  her  eyes  were  clear  and 
friendly. 

Ward  was  not  satisfied,  for  all  the  surface  seemed 
smooth  enough.  He  was  too  sensitive  not  to  feel  a 
difference,  and  he  was  too  innocent  of  any  wrongdoing 
or  thinking  to  guess  what  was  the  matter.  Guilt  is  a 
good  barometer  of  personal  atmosphere,  and  Ward  had 
none  of  it.  The  worst  of  him  she  had  known  for  more 
than  a  year;  he  had  told  her  himself,  and  she  had 
healed  the  hurt  —  almost  —  of  the  past  by  her  firm 
belief  in  him  and  by  her  friendship.  Could  you  expect 
Ward  to  guess  that  she  had  seen  her  faith  in  him  die 
a  violent  death  no  longer  than  two  weeks  ago?  Such 
a  possibility  never  occurred  to  him. 

For  all  that,  he  felt  there  was  a  difference  somewhere. 
It  chilled  his  eagerness  a  little,  and  it  blanketed  his 
enthusiasm  so  that  he  did  not  tell  her  the  things  he 
had  meant  to  tell.  He  had  ridden  over  with  another 
nugget  in  his  pocket  —  a  nugget  the  size  of  an  almond. 


EACH  IN  HIS  OWN  TRAIL      197 

He  had  come  to  give  it  to  Billy  Louise  and  to  tell  her 
how  and  where  he  had  found  it. 

It  is  too  bad  that  he  changed  his  mind  again  and  kept 
that  lump  of  gold  in  his  pocket.  It  would  have  ex- 
plained so  much,  if  he  had  given  it  to  Billy  Louise  to 
put  in  her  blue  plush  treasure  box.  It  would  even  have 
brought  to  life  that  first  faith  in  him.  She  might  have 
told  him  —  one  never  can  foresee  the  lengths  to  which 
a  woman's  confessional  mood  will  carry  her  —  about  that 
corral  hidden  in  the  canyon,  and  of  her  sickening  cer- 
tainty that  she  had  seen  him  ride  stealthily  away  from 
it.  If  she  had,  he  would  have  convinced  her  that  she 
was  mistaken,  and  that  he  had  that  afternoon  been 
washing  gold  a  good  ten  miles  from  there,  until  it  was 
too  dark  for  him  to  work. 

He  took  the  nugget  back  home,  and  he  took  it  sooner 
than  he  had  intended  to  return.  He  also  carried  back 
a  fit  of  the  blues  which  seemed  to  have  attacked  him 
without  cause  or  pretext,  since  he  had  not  quarreled 
with  Billy  Louise,  and  had  been  warmly  welcomed  by 
"  mommie."  Poor  mommie  was  looking  white  and  frail, 
and  her  temples  were  too  distinctly  veined  with  purple. 
Ward  told  himself  that  it  was  no  wonder  his  Wilhemina 
acted  strained  and  unnatural.  He  meant  to  work  harder 
than  ever  and  get  his  stake  so  that  he  could  go  and  make 
her  give  him  the  right  to  take  care  of  her. 

He  began  to  figure  the  cost  of  commuting  his  home- 
stead right  away,  so  that  he  would  not  have  to  "  hold 
it  down  "  for  another  three  years.  Maybe  she  would 
not  want  to  bring  her  mother  so  far  off  the  main  road. 
In  that  case,  he  would  go  down  and  put  that  Wolverine 
place  in  shape.  He  had  no  squeamishness  about  living 


198    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

on  her  ranch  instead  of  his  own,  if  she  wanted  it  that 
way.  He  meant  to  be  better  "  hooked  up  "  financially 
than  she  was  and  have  more  cattle,  when  he  put  the 
gold  ring  on  her  finger.  Then  he  would  do  whatever 
she  wanted  him  to  do,  and  he  would  not  have  to  crucify 
his  pride  doing  it. 

You  see,  they  could  not  have  quarreled,  since  Ward 
carried  castles  as  well  as  the  blues.  In  fact,  their  part- 
ing had  given  Ward  an  uneven  pulse  for  a  mile,  for 
Billy  Louise  had  gone  with  him  as  usual  as  far  as  the 
corral,  when  he  started  home.  And  when  Ward  had 
picked  up  his  reins  and  turned  to  put  his  toe  in  the 
stirrup,  Billy  Louise  had  come  close  —  to  his  very 
shoulder.  Ward  had  turned  his  face  toward  her,  and 
Billy  Louise  —  Billy  Louise  had  impulsively  taken  his 
head  between  her  two  hands,  had  looked  deep  into  his 
eyes,  and  then  had  kissed  him  wistfully  on  the  lips. 
Then  she  had  turned  and  fled  up  the  path,  waving  him 
away  up  the  trail.  And  though  Ward  never  guessed 
that  to  her  that  kiss  was  a  penitent  vow  of  loyalty  to 
their  friendship  and  a  slap  in  the  face  of  the  doubt- 
devils  that  still  pursued  her  weaker  moments,  it  set 
him  planning  harder  than  ever  for  that  stake  he  must 
win  before  he  dared  urge  her  further  toward  matri- 
mony. 

It 's  a  wonder  that  the  kiss  did  not  wipe  out  com- 
pletely the  somber  mdbd  that  held  him.  That  it  did 
not,  but  served  merely  to  tangle  his  thoughts  in  a  most 
hopeless  manner,  perhaps  proves  how  greatly  the  inner 
life  of  Billy  Louise  had  changed  her  in  those  two  weeks. 

She  changed  still  more  in  the  next  two  months,  how- 
ever. There  was  the  strain  of  her  mother's  precarious 


EACH  IN  HIS  OWN  TRAIL      199 

health  which  kept  Billy  Louise  always  on  the  alert  and 
always  trying  to  hide  her  fears.  She  must  be  quick 
to  detect  the^  first  symptoms  of  a  return  attack  of  the 
illness,  and  she  must  not  let  her  mother  suspect  that 
there  was  danger  of  a  return.  That  much  the  doctor 
had  made  plain  to  her. 

Besides  that,  there  was  an  undercurrent  of  gossip 
and  rumors  of  cattle  stealing,  whenever  a  man  stopped 
at  the  ranch.  It  worried  Billy  Louise,  in  spite  of  her- 
rebuilt  belief  in  Ward.  Doubt  would  seize  her  some- 
times in  spite  of  herself,  and  she  did  not  see  Ward 
often  enough  to  let  his  personality  fight  those  doubts. 
She  saw  him  just  once  in  the  next  two  months,  and  then 
only  for  an  hour  or  so. 

A  man  rode  up  one  night  and  stayed  with  them  until 
morning,  after  the  open-handed  custom  of  the  range- 
land.  Billy  Louise  did  not  talk  with  him  very  much. 
He  had  shifty  eyes  and  a  coarse,  loose-lipped  mouth  and 
a  thick  neck,  and,  girl-like,  she  took  a  violent  dislike 
to  him.  But  John  Pringle  told  her  afterwards  that 
he  was  Buck  Olney,  the  new  stock  inspector,  and  that 
he  was  prowling  around  to  see  if  he  could  find  out  any- 
thing. 

Billy  Louise  worried  a  good  deal,  after  that.  Once 
she  rode  out  early  with  the  intention  of  going  to  Ward's 
claim  to  warn  him.  But  three  miles  of  saner  thought 
changed  her  purpose:  she  dared  not  leave  her  mother 
all  day,  for  one  thing;  and  for  another,  she  could 
scarcely  warn  Ward  without  letting  him  see  that  she 
felt  he  needed  warning;  and  even  Billy  Louise  shrank 
from  what  might  follow. 

The  stock  inspector  stopped  again,  on  his  way  back 


200    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

to  the  railroad.  Billy  Louise  was  so  anxious  that  she 
smothered  her  dislike  and  treated  him  nicely,  which 
thawed  the  man  to  an  alarming  amiability.  She  ques- 
tioned him  artfully  —  trust  Billy  Louise  for  that !  - 
and  she  decided  that  the  stock  inspector  was  either  a 
very  poor  detective  or  a  very  good  actor.  He  did  not, 
for  instance,  mention  any  corral  hidden  in  a  blind  can- 
yon away  back  in  the  hills,  and  Billy  Louise  did  not 
mention  it,  either.  He  had  not  found  any  worked 
brands,  he  said.  And  he  did  not  appear  to  know  any- 
thing further  about  Ward  than  the  mere  fact  of  his 
existence. 

"  There  's  a  fellow  holding  down  a  claim,  away  over 
on  Mill  Creek,"  he  had  remarked.  "  I  '11  look  him  up 
when  I  come  back,  though  Seabeck  says  he  's  all  right." 

"  Ward  is  all  right,"  asserted  Billy  Louise,  rather 
unwisely. 

"  Have  n't  a  doubt  of  it.  I  thought  maybe  he  might 
have  seen  something  that  might  give  us  a  clew."  Per- 
haps the  stock  inspector  was  wiser  than  she  gave  him 
credit  for  being.  He  did  not  at  any  rate  pursue  the 
subject  any  farther,  until  he  found  an  opportunity  to 
talk  to  Mrs.  MacDonald  herself.  Then  he  artfully 
mentioned  the  fellow  on  Mill  Creek,  and  because  she  did 
not  know  any  reason  for  caution,  he  got  all  the  infor- 
mation he  wanted,  and  more,  for  mommie  was  in  one 
of  her  garrulous  humors. 

•  He  went  away  in  a  thoughtful  mood,  and  I  may  as 
well  tell  you  why.  Do  you  remember  that  evening  when 
Ward  sat  before  the  fire  thinking  so  intently  of  a  man 
that  he  pulled  a  gun  on  Billy  Louise  when  she  startled 
him?  Well,  this  stock  inspector  was  the  man.  And 


EACH  IN  HIS  OWN  TRAIL      201 

this  man  went  away  from  the  Wolverine  thinking  of 
Ward  quite  as  intently  as  Ward  sometimes  thought  of 
him.  If  Billy  Louise  had  thrown  a  chip  and  hit  the 
stock  inspector  on  the  back  of  the  neck,  it  is  very  likely 
that  he  would  have  pulled  a  gun,  also.  I  've  an  idea 
that  Billy  Louise  might  have  done  something  more  than 
throw  a  chip  at  him  if  she  had  known  who  he  was; 
but  she  did  not  know,  and  she  slept  the  sounder  for 
her  ignorance. 

After  that  the  days  drifted  quietly  for  a  month  and 
grew  nippier  at  each  end  and  lazier  in  the  middle; 
which  meant  that  the  short  summer  was  over,  and 
that  fall  was  getting  ready  to  paint  the  wooded  slopes 
with  her  gayest  colors,  and  that  one  must  prepare  for 
the  siege  of  winter. 

It  was  some  time  in  the  latter  part  of  September  that 
Billy  Louise  got  up  in  the  middle  of  a  frosty  night 
because  she  heard  her  mother  moaning.  That  was 
the  beginning.  She  sent  John  off  before  daylight  for 
the  doctor,  and  before  the  next  night  she  stood  with 
her  lips  pressed  together  and  watched  the  doctor  count 
mommie's  pulse  and  take  mommie's  temperature,  and 
drew  in  her  breath  hardly  when  she  saw  how  long  he 
studied  the  thermometer  afterwards. 

There  was  a  month  or  so  of  going  to  and  fro  on 
her  toes  and  of  watching  the  clock  with  a  mind  to 
medicine-giving.  There  were  nights  and  nights  and 
nights  when  the  cabin  window  winked  like  a  star  fallen 
into  the  coulee,  from  dusk  to  red  dawn.  Ward  rode 
over  once,  stayed  all  night,  and  went  home  in  a  silent 
rage  because  he  could  not  do  a  thing. 

There  was  a  week  of  fluctuating  hope,  and  a  time 


202    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

when  the  doctor  said  mommie  must  go  to  a  hospital  - 
Boise,  since  she  had  friends  there.  And  there  was  a 
terrible,  nerve-racking  journey  to  the  railroad.  And 
when  Ward  rode  next  to  the  Wolverine  ranch,  there  was 
no  Billy  Louise  to  taunt  or  tempt  him.  John  Pringle 
and  Phcebe  told  him  in  brief,  stolid  sentences  of  the 
later  developments  and  gave  him  a  meal  and  offered 
him  a  bed,  which  he  declined. 

When  the  suspense  became  maddening,  after  that, 
he  would  ride  down  to  the  Wolverine  for  news.  And 
the  news  was  monotonously  scant.  Phoebe  could  read 
and  write,  after  a  fashion,  and  Billy  Louise  sent  her 
a  letter  now  and  then,  saying  that  mommie  was  about 
the  same,  and  that  she  wanted  John  to  do  certain  things 
about  the  ranch.  She  could  not  leave  mommie,  she 
said.  Ward  gathered  that  she  would  not. 

Once  when  he  was  at  the  ranch,  he  wrote  a  letter  to 
Billy  Louise,  and  told  her  that  he  would  come  to  Boise 
if  there  was  anything  he  could  do,  and  begged  her 
to  let  him  know  if  she  needed  any  money.  Beyond 
that  he  worked  and  worked,  and  tried  to  crowd  the  lone- 
someness  out  of  his  days  and  the  hunger  from  his 
dreams,  with  complete  bone-weariness.  He  did  not 
expect  an  answer  to  his  letter  —  at  least  he  told  him- 
self that  he  did  not  —  but  one  day  Phoebe  gave  him 
a  thin  little  letter  more  precious  in  his  eyes  than  the 
biggest  nugget  he  had  found. 

Billy  Louise  did  not  write  much;  she  explained  that 
she  could  only  scribble  a  line  or  two  while  mommie 
slept.  Mommie  was  about  the  same.  She  did  not  think 
there  was  anything  Ward  could  do,  and  she  thanked 
him  for  offering  to  help.  There  was  nothing,  she  said 


EACH  IN  HIS  OWN  TRAIL      203 

pathetically,  that  anybody  could  do;  even  the  doctors 
did  not  seem  able  to  do  much,  except  tell  her  lies  and 
charge  her  for  them.  No,  she  did  not  need  any  money, 
"  thank  you  just  the  same,  Ward."  That  was  about 
all.  It  did  not  sound  in  the  least  like  Billy  Louise. 

Ward  answered  the  note  then  and  there,  and  called 
her  Wilhemina-mine  —  which  was  an  awkward  name 
to  write  and  cost  him  five  minutes  of  cogitation  over 
the  spelling.  But  he  wanted  it  down  on  paper  where 
she  could  see  it  and  remember  how  it  sounded  when 
he  said  it,  even  if  it  did  look  queer.  Farther  along  he 
started  to  call  her  Bill  Loo,  but  rubbed  it  out  and  sub- 
stituted Lady  Girl  (with  capitals).  Altogether  he  did 
better  than  he  knew,  for  he  made  Billy  Louise  cry 
when  she  read  it,  and  he  made  her  say  "  Dear  Ward !  " 
under  her  breath,  and  remember  how  his  hair  waved  over 
his  left  temple,  and  how  he  looked  when  that  smile  hid 
just  behind  his  lips  and  his  eyes.  And  he  made  her 
forget  that  she  had  lost  faith  in  him.  She  needed  to 
cry,  and  she  needed  to  remember  and  also  to  forget 
some  things;  for  life  was  a  hard,  dull  drab  in  Boise, 
with  nothing  to  lighten  it,  save  a  vicarious  hope  that 
did  not  comfort. 

Billy  Louise  was  not  stupid.  She  saw  through  the 
vagueness  of  the  doctors ;  and  besides,  she  was  so  hungry 
for  her  hills  that  she  felt  like  beating  the  doctors  with 
her  fists,  because  they  did  nothing  to  make  her  mom- 
mie  well  enough  to  go  home.  She  grew  to  hate  the 
nurse  and  her  neutral  cheerfulness. 

That  is  how  the  fall  passed  for  Billy  Louise,  and 
the  early  part  of  the  winter. 


CHAPTER  XV 


ONE  day  late  in  the  fall,  Ward  was  riding  the  hills 
off  to  the  north  and  west  of  his  claim,  looking 
at  the  condition  of  the  range  there  and  keeping  an 
eye  out  for  Y6  cattle.  He  had  bought  another  dozen 
head  of  mixed  stock,  over  toward  Hardup,  and  they 
were  not  yet  past  the  point  of  straying  off  their  new 
range.  So,  having  keen  eyes  and  the  incentive  to  use 
them,  he  paid  attention  to  stock  tracks  in  the  soft  places, 
and  he  saw  everything  within  the  sweep  of  his  vision; 
and,  since  the  day  was  clear  and  fine,  his  range  of 
vision,  when  he  reached  a  high  point,  extended  to  the 
Three  Buttes  away  out  in  the  desert. 

By  sheer  accident  he  rode  up  to  the  canyon  where  the 
little  corral  lay  hidden  at  the  end,  and  looked  down. 
And  since  he  rode  up  at  an  angle  different  from  the 
one  Billy  Louise  had  taken,  the  corral  was  directly 
beneath  him  —  so  directly,  in  fact,  that  half  of  it  was 
hidden  from  sight.  He  saw  that  there  were  cattle  within 
it,  however,  and  two  men  at  work  there.  And  by  chance 
he  lifted  his  eyes  and  saw  the  nose  of  a  horse  beyond 
a  jutting  ledge  sixty  yards  or  so  away,  and  the  crown 
of  a  hat  showing  just  above  the  ledge;  a  lookout,  he 
judged  instantly,  and  pulled  Rattler  behind  the  rock 
he  had  been  at  some  pains  to  ride  around. 

Ward  was  a  cowpuncher.     He  knew  the  tricks  of 


'YOU  WON'T  GET  ME  AGAIN'      205 

the  trade  so  well  that  he  did  not  wonder  what  was 
going  on  down  there.  He  knew.  He  was  tempted  *o 
do  as  Billy  Louise  had  done  —  ride  on  and  pass  up 
knowledge  which  might  be  disagreeable;  for  Ward  was 
not  one  to  spy  upon  his  fellows,  and  the  man  whom  he 
would  betray  into  the  hands  of  a  sheriff  must  be  guilty 
of  a  most  heinous  crime.  That  was  his  code:  To  let 
every  fellow  have  a  chance  to  work  out  his  own  salva- 
tion or  damnation  as  he  might  choose.  I  don't  sup^ 
pose  there  was  anything  he  hated  worse  than  an  in- 
former. 

He  got  behind  the  rock,  since  he  had  no  great  desire 
to  be  shot,  and  he  discovered  that  his  view  of  the  corral 
was  much  plainer  than  from  where  he  had  first  seen 
it.  He  looked  behind  him  for  an  easy  retreat  to  the 
skyline,  and  then  b'efore  he  turned  to  ride  away,  he 
glanced  down  again  curiously. 

A  man  walked  out  into  the  center  of  the  corral  and 
stood  there  in  the  revealing  sunlight.  Ward's  eyes  bored 
like  gimlets  through  the  space  that  divided  them.  In- 
stinctively his  hand  went  to  the  gun  on  his  hip.  It 
was  a  long  pistol  shot,  and  he  was  afraid  he  might 
miss;  for  Ward  was  not  a  wizard  with  a  gun,  much 
as  I  should  like  to  misrepresent  him  as  a  dead  shot. 
He  was  human,  just  like  yourself.  He  could  shoot 
pretty  well,  a  great  deal  better  than  lots  of  men  who 
do  more  boasting  than  he  ever  did,  but  he  frequently 
missed.  He  measured  the  distance  with  his  mind  while 
the  man  stood  there  talking  to  someone  unseen.  To 
look  at  Ward's  face,  you  would  have  sworn  that  the 
man  was  doomed;  but  something  held  Ward's  finger 
from  crooking  on  the  trigger;  the  man  had  his  back 


206    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

turned  squarely  toward  the  gun.  Ward  waited.  The 
man  did  not  move.  He  waited  another  minute,  and 
then  he  opened  his  lips  to  shout.  And  when  his  lips 
parted  for  the  call  that  would  bring  the  fellow  facing 
him,  Ward's  tricky  brain  snapped  before  his  eyes  the 
face  of  Billy  Louise. 

He  lowered  the  gun.  He  could  not  shoot  when  he 
knew  that  the  bullet  would  split  a  gulf  between  himself 
and  the  girl  —  a  gulf  that  would  separate  him  forever 
from  that  future  where  stood  his  air  castles.  Billy 
Louise  had  talked  to  him  very  seriously  one  day  about 
this  very  possibility.  She  had  made  him  see  that  shoot- 
ing this  man  would  be  the  worst  thing  he  could  pos- 
sibly do. 

He  let  down  the  hammer  with  his  thumb,  slid  the 
gun  back  into  its  holster,  and  dismounted,  with  a  glance 
toward  the  place  where  the  lookout  was  stationed.  He 
was  sure  he  had  not  been  seen,  and  so  he  crouched 
behind  a  splinter  of  rock  and  watched.  He  had  no  plan, 
but  his  instinct  impelled  him  to  closely  watch  Buck 
Olney. 

Another  man  came  into  view,  down  there  in  the  cor- 
ral. He  also  stood  plainly  revealed,  and  Ward  gave 
a  little  snort  of  contemptuous  surprise  when  he  rec- 
ognized him.  After  that  he  studied  the  situation  with 
scowling  brows.  This  other  man  either  upset  his  con- 
clusions or  complicated  his  manner  of  dealing  with 
Buck  Olney.  Ward  would  not  have  hesitated  one  sec- 
ond about  putting  the  sheriff  on  the  trail  of  Buck,  but 
if  the  second  man  were  implicated,  he  could  not  betray 
one  without  betraying  the  other.  And  if  the  busi- 
ness down  there  in  the  corral  were  lawful,  then  he 


'  YOU  WON'T  GET  ME  AGAIN  '      207 

must  think  of  some  other  means.  At  any  rate,  the 
thing  to  do  now  was  to  make  sure. 

The  two  in  the  corral  came  out  and  closed  the  gate 
behind  them,  and  the  first  man  kicked  apart  the  em- 
bers of  a  small  fire  and  afterward  busied  himself  with 
the  ground  —  either  looking  for  tracks  or  covering  them 
up.  They  came  a  little  way  along  the  side  of  the  bluff, 
mounted,  and  rode  up  toward  where  the  lookout  waited. 
And  one  of  them  rode  a  dark  bay,  and  was  slim  and 
tall,  and  wore  a  gray  hat. 

Ward  glanced  at  Rattler  standing  half  asleep  with 
reins  dropped  to  the  ground.  He  reached  out,  took 
the  reins,  and  led  the  horse  farther  down  under  the 
shelter  of  the  ledge.  Rattler  pricked  up  his  ears  at 
the  sound  of  those  other  riders,  but  he  did  not  show 
enough  interest  to  nicker  a  greeting;  he  was  always  a 
self-centered  beast  and  was  content  to  go  his  way  alone, 
like  his  master. 

Ward  stood  up,  where  he  could  see  the  rim  of  the 
bluff  over  the  ledge  of  lava  rock.  He  might  get  a  closer 
view  and  see  who  was  the  lookout,  and  he  might  be 
seen;  for  that  contingency  he  kept  his  fingers  close 
to  his  gun.  He  heard  their  scrambling  progress.  Now 
and  then  one  of  the  horses  sent  a  little  rock  bounding 
down  into  the  canyon,  whereat  the  cattle  in  the  corral 
moved  restlessly  around  the  small  inclosure. 

They  came  closer,  after  they  had  gained  the  top. 
Ward,  leaning  against  the  dull-gray  rock  before  him, 
heard  the  murmur  of  their  voices.  Once  he  caught 
the  unmistakable  tones  of  the  man  he  would  like  to 
kill.  "  I  '11  keep  cases  and  git  him."  Plotting  against 
some  poor  devil,  as  usual,  Ward  thought,  and  wondered 


208    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

if  the  man  knew  he  lived  in  this  part  of  the  country; 
if  he  did,  it  might  easily  be  — 

"  I  '11  keep  cases  some  myself,  you  damned  reptile," 
he  muttered  under  his  breath.  "  You  won't  get  me 
again,  if  that 's  what  you  've  got  in  mind." 

They  went  on,  and  presently  Ward  was  looking  at 
their  backs  as  they  rode  over  the  ridge.  He  stood  for 
some  time  staring  after  them  with  what  Billy  Louise 
called  his  gimlet  look.  He  was  breathing  shortly  from 
the  pressure  he  had  put  upon  his  self-control,  and  he 
was  thinking  —  thinking. 

The  silence  came  creeping  in  on  the  heels  of  the 
faint,  interrupted  sound  of  their  voices.  Ward  took  a 
long  breath,  discovered  that  he  was  gripping  his  gun 
as  though  his  life  depended  on  hanging  to  it,  and  rubbed 
his  numbed  fingers  absently.  After  a  minute  or  so, 
he  mounted  and  rode  down  to  the  corral. 

Five  dry  cows  and  two  steers  snorted  at  his  ap- 
proach and  crowded  against  the  farther  rails.  Ward 
gave  Rattler  a  touch  of  the  spurs,  rode  close  to  the 
fence,  and  stood  in  his  stirrups  while  he  studied  the 
bunch. 

"  Hell !  "  he  said,  when  the  inspection  was  over,  and 
dropped  back  into  the  saddle  while  ne  gazed  unsee- 
ingly  at  the  canyon  wall.  It  was  a  very  real  hell 
that  his  mind  saw ;  a  hell  made  by  men,  wherein  other 
men  must  dwell  in  torment  because  of  their  sins  or 
the  sins  of  their  fellows. 

Seabeck's  brand  was  a  big  V,  a  bad  brand  to  own, 
since  it  favors  revision  at  the  hands  of  the  unscrupu- 
lous. These  cattle  were  Seabeck  cattle,  and  their  brand 
had  been  altered.  For  the  right  slant  of  the  V  had 


'  YOU  WON'T  GET  ME  AGAIN  '      209 

been  extended  a  little  and  curled  into  a  6,  so  that  in  time 
the  brand  would  stand  casual  inspection  as  a  Y6  mono- 
gram —  Ward's  own  brand.  The  work  was  crude  — 
purposefully  crude.  The  V  had  not  been  reburned 
enough  to  make  it  look  fresh,  and  the  newly  seared  6 
had  been  added  with  a  malevolent  pressure  that  would 
make  it  stand  out  a  fresh  brand  for  a  long  time  —  in 
case  of  a  delay  in  the  proceedings,  as  Ward  knew  per- 
fectly well. 

So  he  sat  there  and  looked  over  the  fence  and  saw 
himself  a  convicted  "  rustler."  There  was  the  evidence, 
all  ready  to  damn  him  utterly  before  a  jury.  They 
would  be  turned  loose  on  the  range  near  his  claim, 
and  they  would  be  found  before  the  scabs  had  haired 
over.  It  was  a  good  time  for  rustling;  round-ups  were 
over  for  the  winter,  and  the  weather  would  confine 
range-riding  to  absolute  necessity. 

Of  course,  the  work  was  coarse  —  so  coarse  as  to 
reflect  against  his  intelligence;  but  when  brands  are 
worked  over  and  the  culprit  has  been  caught,  the  law 
is  not  too  careful  to  give  the  prisoner  credit  for  brains. 

Ward  stared  at  the  altered  brands  and  wondered 
what  he  had  best  do.  He  bethought  him  that  perhaps 
it  would  be  as  well  to  put  a  little  scenery  between  him- 
self and  that  particular  locality,  and  he  started  back 
up  the  hill.  Once  he  pulled  up  as  if  he  would  go  back, 
but  he  thought  better  of  it.  It  was  out  of  the  question 
to  turn  those  cattle  loose.  He  could  not  kill  them  and 
dispose  of  the  bodies  —  not  when  there  were  seven  of 
them.  He  might  go  down  and  blotch  the  brands  so 
that  they  would  not  read  anything  at  all.  He  had 
thought  of  that  before  and  decided  against  it.  That 


210   RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

would  put  those  three  on  their  guard  and  would  prob- 
ably not  benefit  him  in  the  long  run.  They  could  work 
the  brands  on  other  cattle. 

He  hunched  forward  in  the  saddle  and  let  Rattler 
choose  his  own  trail  up  the  hill.  Though  he  did  not 
know  it,  trouble  had  caught  Billy  Louise  in  that  same 
place,  and  had  sent  her  forward  with  drooping  shoul- 
ders and  a  mind  so  absorbed  that  she  gave  no  atten- 
tion to  her  horse;  but  that  is  merely  a  trifling  coin- 
cidence. The  thing  he  had  to  decide  was  far  more  com- 
plicated than  Billy  Louise's  problem. 

Should  he  go  straight  to  Seabeck  and  tell  him  what 
he  had  found  out?  He  did  not  know  Seabeck,  except 
as  he  had  met  him  once  or  twice  on  the  trail  and  ex- 
changed trivial  greetings  and  a  few  words  about  the 
weather.  Besides,  Seabeck  would  very  soon  find  out  — 

There  it  stood  at  his  shoulder,  grinning  at  him  malevo- 
lently—  his  past.  It  tied  his  hands.  Buck  Olney 
he  could  deal  with  single-handed ;  for  Olney  had  the  fear 
of  him  that  is  born  of  a  guilty  conscience.  He  could 
send  Buck  "  over  the  road  "  whenever  he  chose  to  tell 
some  things  he  knew;  he  could  do  it  without  any  com- 
punctions, too.  Buck  Olney,  the  stock  inspector,  de- 
served no  mercy  at  Ward's  hands ;  and  would  get  none, 
if  ever  they  met  where  Ward  would  have  a  chance  at 
him. 

Olney  he  could  deal  with,  alone.  But  with  the  evi- 
dence of  those  rebranded  cattle,  and  the  testimony  of 
two  men,  together  with  the  damning  testimony  of  his 
past!  Ward  lifted  his  head  and  stared  heavily  at  the 
pine  slope  before  him.  He  could  not  go  to  Seabeck 
and  tell  him  anything.  In  the  black  hour  of  that  ride, 


YOU  WON'T  GET  ME  AGAIN '     211 

he  could  not  think  of  anything  that  he  could  do  that 
would  save  him. 

And  then  quite  suddenly,  in  his  desperation,  he  de- 
cided upon  something.  He  laughed  hardly,  turned 
Rattler  back  from  the  homeward  trail,  and  returned  to 
the  corral  in  the  canyon.  "  They  started  this  game, 
and  they  've  put  it  up  to  me,"  he  told  himself  grimly, 
"  and  they  need  n't  squeal  if  they  burn  their  own 
fingers." 

He  hurried,  for  he  had  some  work  ahead  of  him,  and 
the  sun  was  sliding  past  the  noon  mark  already.  He 
reached  the  corral  and  went  about  what  he  had  to  do 
as  if  he  were  working  for  wages  and  wanted  to  give 
good  measure. 

First,  he  rebuilt  the  little  fire  just  outside  the  corral 
where  the  cattle  could  not  trample  it,  but  where  one 
might  thrust  a  branding  iron  into  its  midst  from  be- 
tween the  rails.  When  it  was  going  properly,  he 
searched  certain  likely  hiding-places  and  found  an  iron 
still  warm  from  previous  service.  He  thrust  it  in  to 
heat,  4ed  Rattler  into  the  corral,  and  closed  the  gate 
securely  behind  him.  Then  he  mounted,  took  down 
his  rope  and  widened  the  loop,  while  his  angry  eyes 
singled  out  the  animal  he  wanted  first. 

Ward  was  not  an  adept  with  a  "  running  iron  " ;  he 
was  honest,  whatever  men  might  say  of  him.  But  he 
know  how  to  tie  down  an  animal,  and  he  sacrificed 
part  of  his  lariat  to  get  the  short  rope  he  needed  to 
tip  their  feet  together.  He  worked  fast  —  no  telling 
what  minute  someone  might  come  and  catch  him  — 
and  he  did  his  work  well,  far  better  and  neater  than 
had  his  predecessors. 


212    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

When  he  left  that  corral,  he  smiled.  Before  he 
had  ridden  very  far  up  the  bluff,  he  stopped,  looked 
down  at  the  long-suffering  cattle,  and  smiled  again  sar- 
donically. One  could  read  their  brands  easily  from 
where  he  sat  on  his  horse.  They  were  not  blotched; 
they  were  very  distinct.  But  they  were  not  Y6s  within 
that  corral.  There  were  other  brands  which  might 
be  made  of  a  Y6  monogram,  by  the  judicious  addition 
of  a  mark  here  and  a  mark  there. 

"  There,  damn  yuh :  chew  on  that  awhile !  "  he  apos- 
trophized the  absent  three.  He  turned  away  and  rode 
back  once  more  toward  home. 

Kattler  turned  naturally  into  the  trail  which  ran 
up  the  creek  to  the  ranch,  but  Ward  immediately  turned 
him  out  of  it.  "  We  are  n't  going  to  overlook  any  bets, 
old-timer,"  he  said  grimly  and  crossed  the  creek  at  a 
point  where  it  was  too  rocky  to  leave  any  hoof-prints 
behind  them.  He  rode  up  the  lower  point  of  the  ridge 
beyond  and  followed  the  crest  of  it  on  the  side  away 
from  the  valley.  When  he  reached  a  point  nearly  op- 
posite his  cabin,  he  dismounted,  unbuckled  his  spurs, 
and  slipped  their  chains  over  the  saddle-horn.  Then 
he  went  forward  afoot  to  reconnoitre.  He  was  careful 
to  avoid  rock  or  gravelly  patches  and  to  walk  always 
on  the  soft  grass  which  muffled  his  steps. 

In.  this  wise  he  made  his  way  to  the  top  of  the  ridge, 
where  he  could  look  down  upon  the  cabin  and  stable 
and  corrals  and  see  also  the  creek  trail  for  a  good 
quarter  of  a  mile.  The  little  valley  lay  quiet.  His 
team  fed  undisturbed  by  the  creek  not  far  from  the 
corral,  which  reassured  Ward  more  than  anything. 
Still,  he  waited  until  he  had  made  reasonably  sure 


'  YOU  WON'T  GET  ME  AGAIN  '      213 

that  the  bluff  held  no  watcher  concealed  before  he  went 
back  to  where  Rattler  waited  patiently. 

"  I  guess  they  did  n't  plan  to  stir  things  up  till  they 
got  those  critters  planted  where  they  wanted  them," 
he  mused,  while  he  rode  down  the  bluff  to  his  cabin. 
"  But  when  they  visit  that  bunch  of  stock  again,  I 
reckon  things  will  begin  to  tighten !  " 

He  was  wary  of  exposing  himself  too  much  to  view 
from  the  bluff  while  he  did  his  chores  that  night,  and 
he  kept  Rattler  in  the  stable.  Also,  he  slept  very 
little,  and  before  daybreak  he  was  up  and  away.  He 
had  a  rolled  army  blanket  tied  behind  the  saddle,  a 
sack  of  grub  and  a  frying-pan  and  a  bucket  for  coffee. 
But  he  did  not  go  any  farther  than  the  wolf-den,  and  he 
spent  a  couple  of  hours  removing  as  well  as  he  could 
any  suspicious  traces  of  having  dug  anything  more 
than  wolf  pups  from  the  bank  on  the  ledge. 


CHAPTER  XVI 


GOING  TO  TAKE  YOU  OUT  AND  HANG  YOU  " 


TTTF.  trouble  with  a  man  like  Buck  Olney  is  that 
you  can  never  be  sure  of  his  method,  except  that 
it  will  be  underhand  and  calculated  to  eliminate  as 
much  as  possible  any  risk  to  himself.  Ward,  casting 
back  into  his  memory  —  he  had  known  Buck  Olney 
very  well,  once  upon  a  time,  and  in  his  unsuspecting 
youth  had  counted  him  a  friend  —  tried  to  guess  how 
Buck  would  proceed  when  he  went  down  to  that  corral 
and  found  how  those  brands  had  been  retouched. 

"  He  '11  be  running  around  in  circles  for  awhile,  all 
right,"  he  deduced  with  an  air  of  certainty.  "  Blotched 
brands  he  'd  know  was  my  work  ;  and  he  could  have 
put  it  on  me,  too,  with  a  good  yarn  about  trailing  me 
so  close  I  got  cold  feet.  As  it  is  —  "  Ward  smoked 
two  cigarettes  and  scowled  at  the  scenery.  As  it  was, 
he  did  not  know  just  what  Buck  Olney  would  do,  ex- 
cept —  "  If  he  makes  a  guess  I  did  that,  he  '11  know 
I  'm  wise  to  the  whole  plant.  And  he  '11  get  me,  sure, 
providing  I  stand  with  my  back  to  him  long  enough  !  " 
Ward  had  his  back  to  a  high  ledge,  at  that  moment, 
so  that  he  did  not  experience  any  impulse  to  look 
behind  him. 

"  Buck  don't  want  to  drag  me  up  before  a  jury," 
he  reasoned  further.  "  He  'd  a  heap  rather  pack  me 


"  I  'M  GOI^G  TO  TAKE  YOU  '      215 

in  all  wrapped  up  in  a  tarp,  and  say  how  he  'd  canght 
me  with  the  goods,  and  I  resisted  arrest." 

The  assurance  he  felt  as  to  what  Buck  Olney  would 
do  did  not  particularly  frighten  Ward,  even  if  he  did 
neglect  to  go  to  bed  in  his  cabin  during  the  next  few 
days.  That  was  common  sense,  born  of  his  knowledge 
of  the  man  he  was  dealing  with.  He  went  to  the  cabin 
warily,  just  often  enough  to  give  it  an  air  of  occupancy. 
He  frequently  sat  upon  some  hilltop  and  watched  a  lazy 
thread  of  smoke  weave  upward  from  his  rusty  stovepipe, 
but  he  slept  out  under  the  stars  rolled  in  his  heavy 
blanket,  and  he  never  crossed  a  ridge  if  he  could  make 
his  way  through  a  hollow.  It  is  not  always  cowardice 
which  makes  a  man  extremely  careful  not  to  fall  into 
the  hands  of  his  enemy.  There  is  a  small  matter  of 
pride  involved.  Ward  would  have  died  almost  any 
death  rather  than  give  Buck  Olney  the  satisfaction 
of  "  getting  "  him.  For  a  few  days  he  was  cautious  as 
an  Indian  on  the  war  trail,  and  then  his  patience  fraz- 
zled out  under  the  strain. 

At  sunrise  one  morning,  after  a  night  of  shivering 
in  his  blanket,  he  hunched  his  shoulders  in  disgust  of 
his  caution.  If  Buck  Olney  wanted  anything  of  him, 
he  was  certainly  taking  his  time  about  coming  after 
it.  Ward  rubbed  his  fingers  over  his  stubbly  jaw, 
and  the  uncomfortable  prickling  was  the  last  small  de- 
tail of  discomfort  that  decided  him.  He  was  going 
to  have  a  shave  and  a  decent  cup  of  coffee  and  eat  off 
his  own  table,  or  know  the  reason  why,  he  promised 
himself  while  he  slapped  the  saddle  on  Rattler. 

He  was  camped  in  a  sheltered  little  hollow  in  the 
hills,  where  the  grass  was  good  and  there  was  a  spring. 


216    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

It  was  a  mile  and  more  to  his  claim,  straight  across 
the  upland,  and  it  was  his  habit  to  leave  Rattler  there 
and  walk  over  to  the  ridge,  where  he  could  watch  his 
claim;  frequently,  as  I  have  said,  he  stole  down  be- 
fore daylight  and  lighted  a  fire  in  the  stove,  just  to 
make  it  look  as  if  he  lived  there.  There  was  a  risk 
in  that,  of  course,  granting  that  the  stock  inspector 
was  the  kind  to  lie  in  wait  for  him. 

Ward  rode  to  the  ridge,  with  his  blanket  rolled  and 
tied  behind  the  cantle.  His  frying-pan  hung  behind 
his  leg,  and  his  rifle  lay  across  the  saddle  in  front  of 
him.  He  was  going  home  boldly  enough  and  recklessly 
enough,  but  he  was  by  no  means  disposed  to  walk  de- 
liberately into  a  trap.  He  kept  his  eye  peeled,  as  he 
would  have  expressed  it.  Also,  he  left  Rattler  just 
under  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  took  off  his  spurs,  and 
with  his  rifle  in  his  hands  went  forward  afoot,  as  he 
had  done  every  time  he  had  approached  his  cabin  since 
the  day  he  found  the  corral  and  the  cattle  in  the 
canyon. 

In  this  wise  he  looked  down  the  steep  slope  with  the 
sun  throwing  the  shadow  of  his  head  and  shoulders  be- 
fore him.  The  cabin  window  blinked  cheerfully  in 
the  sunlight.  His  span  of  mares  were  coming  up  from 
the  meadow  —  in  the  faint  hope  of  getting  a  break- 
fast of  oats,  perhaps.  The  place  looked  peaceful  enough 
and  cozily  desirable  to  a  man  who  has  slept  out  for 
four  nights  late  in  the  fall ;  but  a  glance  was  all  Ward 
gave  to  it. 

His  eyes  searched  the  bluff  below  him  and  upon  either 
side.  Of  a  sudden  they  sharpened.  He  brought  his 
rifle  forward  with  an  involuntary  motion  of  the  arms. 


"  I  'M  GOING  TO  TAKE  YOU '     217 

He  stood  so  for  a  breath  or  two,  looking  down  the  hill. 
Then  he  went  forward  stealthily,  on  his  toes ;  swiftly, 
too,  so  that  presently  he  was  close  enough  to  see  the  car- 
buncle scar  on  the  neck  of  the  man  crouched  behind 
a  rock  and  watching  the  cabin  as  a  cat  watches  a* mouse- 
hole.  A  rifle  lay  across  the  rock  before  the  man,  the 
muzzle  pointing  downward.  At  that  distance,  and  from 
a  dead  rest,  it  would  be  strange  if  he  should  miss  any 
object  he  shot  at.  He  had  what  gamblers  call  a  cinch, 
or  he  would  have  had,  if  the  man  he  watched  for  had  not 
been  standing  directly  behind  him,  with  rifle-sights  in 
a  line  with  the  scar  on  the  back  of  his  thick  neck. 

"  Throw  up  your  hands ! "  Ward  called  sharply, 
when  his  first  flare  of  rage  had  cooled  to  steady 
purpose. 

Buck  Olney  jumped  as  though  a  yellow-jacket  had 
stung  him.  He  turned  a  startled  face  over  his  shoul- 
der and  jerked  the  rifle  up  from  the  rock.  Ward  raised 
his  sights  a  little  and  plugged  a  round,  black-rimmed 
hole  through  Buck's  hat  crown. 

"  Throw  up  your  hands,  I  told  you !  "  he  said,  while 
the  hills  opposite  were  still  flinging  back  the  sound  of 
the  shot,  and  came  closer. 

Buck  grunted  an  oath,  dropped  the  rifle  so  suddenly 
that  it  clattered  on  the  rock,  and  lifted  his  hands  high 
in  the  quiet  sunlight. 

. "  Get  up  from  there  and  go  on  down  to  the  shack  — 
and  keep  your  hands  up.  And  remember  all  the  rea- 
sons I  've  got  for  wanting  to  see  you  make  a  crooked 
move,  so  I  '11  have  an  excuse  to  shoot."  Ward  came 
still  closer  as  he  spoke.  He  was  wishing  he  had 
brought  his  rope  along.  He  did  not  feel  quite  easy  in 


218    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

his  mind  while  Buck  Olney's  hands  were  free.  He 
kept  thinking  of  what  Billy  Louise  had  said  to  him 
about  shooting  this  man,  and  it  was  the  first  time 
since  he  had  known  her  that  he  disliked  the  thought  of 
her. 

Buck  got  up  awkwardly  and  went  stumbling  down 
the  steep  slope,  with  his  hands  trembling  in  the  air 
upon  either  side  of  his  head.  From  their  nervous  quiv- 
ering it  was  evident  that  hi^s  memory  was  good,  and 
that  it  was  working  upon  the  subject  which  Ward  had 
suggested  to  him.  He  did  not  give  Ward  the  weakest 
imitation  of  an  excuse  to  shoot.  And  so  the  two  of 
them  came  presently  down  upon  the  level  and  passed 
around  the  cabin  to  the  door,  with  no  more  than  ten 
feet  of  space  between  them  —  so  inexorably  had  Ward 
crowded  close  upon  the  other's  stumbling  progress. 

"  Hold  on  a  minute !  " 

Buck  stopped  as  still  as  though  he  had  gone  against 
a  rock  wall. 

Ward  came  closer,  and  Buck  flinched  away  from 
the  feel  of  the  rifle  muzzle  between  his  shoulder  blades. 
Ward  reached  out  a  cautious  hand  and  pulled  the  six- 
shooter  from  its  scabbard  at  Buck's  right  hip. 

"  Got  a  knife  ?  You  always  used  to  go  heeled  with 
one.  Speak  up  —  and  don't  lie  about  it." 

"  Inside  my  coat,"  grunted  Buck,  and  Ward's  lip 
curled  while  he  reached  around  the  man's  bulky  body 
and  found  the  knife  in  its  leather  sheath.  Evidently 
Buck  was  still  remembering  with  disquieting  exactness 
what  reasons  Ward  might  have  for  wanting  to  kill 
him. 

"  Take  down  your  left  hand  and  open  the  door." 


"  I  'M  GOING  TO  TAKE  YOU  '     219 

Buck  did  so  and  put  his  hand  up  again  without 
being  told. 

"  Now  go  in  and  stand  with  your  face  to  the  wall." 
With  the  rifle  muzzle,  Ward  indicated  which  wall.  He 
noticed  how  Buck's  fingers  groped  and  trembled  against 
the  wall,  just  under  the  eaves,  and  his  lip  curled  again 
in  the  expression  which  Billy  Louise  so  hated  to  see. 

Ward  had  chosen  the  spot  where  he  could  reach  easily 
a  small  coil  of  rope.  He  kept  the  rifle  pressing  Buck's 
shoulders  until  he  had  shifted  the  knife  into  one  hand, 
leaned,  and  laid  its  blade  against  Buck's  cheek. 

"  Feel  that  ?  I  '11  jab  it  clear  through  you  if  you 
give  me  a  chance.  Drop  your  hands  down  behind  you." 
He  spent  a  busy  minute  with  the  rope  before  he  pushed 
Buck  Olney  roughly  toward  a  chair. 

Buck  sat  down,  and  Ward  did  a  little  more  rope- 
work. 

"  Say,  Ward,  you  're  making  a  big  mistake  if  you  —  " 

"  Shut  up !  "  snapped  Ward.  "  Can't  you  see  I  'm 
standing  all  I  can  stand,  just  with  the  sight  of  you? 
Don't  pile  it  on  too  thick  by  letting  me  hear  you  talk. 
I  heard  you  once  too  often  as  it  is." 

Buck  Olney  caught  his  breath  and  sat  very  still.  His 
eyes  followed  Ward  as  the  eyes  of  a  caged  animal  fol- 
low its  keeper. 

Ward  tried  to  ignore  his  presence  completely  while 
he  lighted  a  fire  and  fried  bacon  and  made  coffee,  but 
the  hard  set  of  his  jaw  and  the  cold  intentness  of  his 
eyes  proved  how  conscious  he  was  of  Buck's  presence. 
He  tried  to  eat  just  to  show  how  calm  he  was,  but  the 
bread  and  bacon  choked  him.  He  could  feel  every 
nerve  in  his  body  quiver  with  the  hatred  he  felt  for 


220    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

the  man,  and  the  bitterness  which  the  sight  of  him 
called  up  out  of  the  past.  He  drank  four  cups  of  cof- 
fee, black  and  sweetened  at  random,  which  steadied 
him  a  little.  That  he  did  not  offer  Buck  food  or  drink 
showed  how  intense  was  his  hatred;  as  a  rule,  your 
true  range  man  is  hospitable  even  to  his  enemies. 

He  rose  and  inspected  the  ropes  to  make  sure  that 
they  were  proof  against  twisting,  straining  muscles, 
and  took  an  extra  turn  or  two  with  the  loose  end,  just 
to  make  doubly  sure  of  the  man's  helplessness. 

"  Where  did  you  leave  your  horse  ?  "  he  asked  him 
curtly,  when  he  was  through. 

Buck  told  him,  his  eyes  searching  Ward's  face  for 
mercy  —  or  at  least  for  some  clew  to  his  fate  —  and 
dulling  with  disappointment  because  he  could  read 
nothing  there  but  loathing. 

Without  speaking  again,  Ward  went  out  and  closed 
the  door  firmly  behind  him.  He  felt  relieved  to  be 
away  from  Buck's  presence.  As  he  climbed  the  bluff 
and  mentally  relived  the  last  hour,  he  wondered  how  he 
had  kept  from  shooting  Buck  as  soon  as  he  saw  him. 
Still,  that  would  have  defeated  his  main*purpose,  which 
was  to  make  Buck  suffer.  He  was  afraid  he  could  not 
make  Buck  suffer  as  Buck  had  made  him  suffer,  because 
there  were  obstacles  in  the  path  of  a  perfect  retribution. 

Ward  was  not  cruel  by  nature;  at  least  he  was  not 
more  cruel  than  the  rest  of  us;  but  as  he  went  after 
Rattler  and  Buck's  horse,  it  pleased  him  to  know  that 
Buck  Olney  was  tied  hand  and  foot  in  his  cabin,  and 
that  he  was  sick  with  dread  of  what  the  future  held 
for  him. 

Ward  was  gone  an  hour.    He  did  not  hurry;  there 


"  I  'M  GOING  TO  TAKE  YOU  '       221 

was  no  need.  Buck  could  not  get  away,  and  a  little 
suspense  would  do  him  good. 

Buck's  face  was  pasty  when  Ward  opened  the  door. 
His  eyes  were  a  bit  glassy.  And  from  the  congested 
appearance  of  his  hands,  Ward  judged  that"  he  had 
tested  to  the  full  his  helplessness  in  his  bonds.  Ward 
looked  at  him  a  minute  and  got  out  the  makings  of  a 
smoke.  His  mood  had  changed  in  his  absence.  He 
no  longer  wanted  absolute  silence  between  them;  in- 
stead, he  showed  symptoms  of  wanting  to  talk. 

"  If  I  turn  you  loose,  Buck,  what  will  you  do  ?  "  he 
asked  at  last,  in  a  curious  tone. 

"  If  you  —  Ward,  I  '11  prove  I  'm  a  friend  to  yuh  in 
spite  of  the  idea  you  've  got  that  I  ain't.  I  never  done 
nothing  —  " 

"  No,  of  course  not."  Ward's  lip  curled.  "  That 
was  my  mistake,  maybe.  You  always  used  to  say  you 
were  my  friend,  when  —  " 

"  And  that  'a  the  God's  truth,  Ward !  "  Buck's  face 
was  becoming  flushed  with  his  eagerness.  "  I  done 
everything  I  could  for  you,  Ward,  but  the  way  the 
cards  laid  I  could  n't  —  " 

"  Get  me  hanged.  I  know ;  you  sure  tried  hard 
enough !  "  Ward  puffed  hard  at  his  cigarette,  and  the 
lips  that  held  it  trembled  a  little.  Otherwise  he  seemed 
perfectly  cool  and  calm. 

"  Say,  Ward,  them  lawyers  lied  to  you." 

"  Oh,  cut  it  out,  Buck.  I  've  seen  you  wriggle 
through  a  snake-hole  before.  I  believe  you  're  my 
friend,  just  the  way  you  've  always  been." 

"  That 's  right,  Ward,  and  I  can  prove  it." 

Ward  snorted.    "  You  proved  it,  old-timer,  when  you 


222    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

laid  up  there  behind  a  rock  with  your  sights  on  this 
shack,  ready  to  get  me  when  I  came  out.  I  sabe  now 
how  it  happened  Jim  McGuire  was  found  face  down 
in  the  spring  behind  his  shack,  with  a  bullet  hole  in 
his  back,  that  time.  You  were  his  friend,  too !  " 

"Ward,  I  —  " 

"  Shut  up.  I  just  wanted  to  see  if  you  'd  changed 
any  in  the  last  seven  years.  You  have  n't,  unless  it 's 
for  the  worse.  You  've  got  to  the  end  of  the  trail, 
old-timer.  When  you  went  laying  for  me,  you  fixed 
yourself  a-plenty.  Do  you  want  to  know  what  I  'm 
going  to  do  to  you  ?  " 

"  Ward,  you  would  n't  dare  shoot  me !  With  the 
record  you  've  got,  you  would  n't  stand  —  " 

"  Who  gave  it  to  me,  huh  ?  Oh,  I  heap  sabe ;  you  've 
left  word  with  your  pardners  that  you  were  coming  up 
here  to  arrest  me  single-handed.  They  will  give  the 
alarm,  if  you  don't  show  up ;  and  I  '11  go  on  the  dodge 
and  get  caught  and  —  "  Ward  threw  away  his  cigarette 
and  took  a  step  toward  his  captive;  a  step  so  ominous 
that  Buck  squirmed  in  his  bonds. 

"  Well,  you  can  rest  easy  on  one  point.  I  'm  not 
going  to  shoot  you."  Ward  stood  still  and  watched  the 
light  of  hope  flare  in  the  eyes  of  his  enemy.  "  I  'm 
going  to  wash  the  dishes  and  take  a  shave  —  and  then 
I  'm  going  to  take  you  out  somewhere  and  hang  you." 

"  My  God,  Ward!    You  —  you  —  " 

"  I  told  you,  seven  years  ago,"  went  on  Ward  stead- 
ily, "  that  I  'd  see  you  hung  before  I  was  through  with 
you.  Kemember?  By  rights  you  ought  to  hang  by 
the  heels,  over  a  slow  fire !  You  're  about  as  low  a 
specimen  of  humanity  as  I  ever  saw  or  heard  of.  You 


"  I  'M  GOING  TO  TAKE  YOU  "      223 

know  what  you  did  for  me,  Buck.  And  you  know  what 
I  told  you  would  happen ;  well,  it 's  going  to  come  off 
according  to  the  programme. 

"  I  did  think  of  running  you  in  and  giving  you  a 
taste  of  hell  yourself.  But,  as  usual,  you  've  gone  and 
tangled  up  a  couple  of  fellows  that  never  dicf  me  any 
particular  harm  and  I  don't  want  to  hand  them  any- 
thing if  I  can  help  it.  So  I  '11  just  string  you  up  — 
after  awhile,  when  I  get  around  to  it  —  and  leave  a 
note  saying  who  you  are,  and  that  you  're  the  head  push 
in  this  rustling  business-,  and  that  you  helped  spend 
the  money  that  Hardup  bank  lost  awhile  back;  and 
that  you  're  one  of  the  gazabos  —  " 

"  You  can't  prove  it !     You  —  " 

"  I  don't  have  to  prove  it.  The  authorities  will  do 
all  that  when  they  get  the  tip  I  '11  give  them.  And 
you,  being  hung  up  on  a  limb  somewhere,  can't  very 
well  give  your  pardners  the  double-cross ;  so  they  '11 
have  a  fighting  chance  to  make  their  getaway. 

"  Xow,  I  'm  through  talking  to  you.  What  I  say 
goes.  You  can  talk  if  you  want  to,  Buck ;  but  I  'm 
going  to  carve  a  steak  out  of  you  every  time  you  open 
your  mouth."  He  pulled  Buck's  own  knife  out  of  its 
sheath  and  laid  it  convenient  to  his  hand,  and  he  looked 
as  if  he  would  do  any  cruel  thing  he  threatened. 

He  relighted  the  fire,  which  had  gone  out  long  ago, 
and  set  the  dish-pan  on  the  stove  with  water  to  heat. 
He  remade  his  bunk,  spreading  on  the  army  blanket 
which  he  to#k  from  the  saddle  on  Rattler.  He  swept 
the  floor  as  neatly  as  any  woman  could  have  done  it 
and  laid  the  two  wolf-skins  down  in  their  places  where 
they  did  duty  as  rugs.  He  washed  and  wiped  his  few 


224    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

dishes,  keeping  Buck's  knife  always  within  reach  and 
sending  an  inquiring  glance  toward  Buck  whenever  that 
unhappy  man  made  the  slightest  movement,  though 
truth  to  tell,  Buck  did  not  make  many.  He  brought 
two  pails  of  water  and  set  them  on  the  bench  inside, 
and  in  the  meantime  he  had  cooked  a  mess  of  prunes 
and  set  them  in.  a  bowl  on  the  window-sill  beside  his 
bunk,  where  the  air  was  coolest.  He  stropped  his  razor 
painstakingly  and  shaved  himself  in  leisurely  fashion 
and  sent  an  occasional  glance  toward  his  prisoner  from 
the  looking-glass,  which  made  Buck  swallow  hard  at 
his  Adam's  apple. 

And  Buck,  during  all  this  time,  never  once  opened 
his  lips,  except  to  lick  his  tongue  across  them,  and  never 
once  took  his  eyes  off  Ward. 

"  I  've  sure  put  the  fear  of  the  Lord  into  you,  have  n't 
I,  Buck  ? "  Ward  observed  maliciously,  wiping  a  blob 
of  hairy  lather  upon  a  page  torn  from  an  old  Sears- 
Roebuck  catalogue.  "  I  was  kinda  hoping  you  had 
more  nerve.  I  wanted  to  get  a  whack  at  you,  just  to 
prove  I  'm  not  joshing." 

Buck  swallowed  again,  but  he  made  no  reply. 

Ward  washed  his  face  in  a  basin  of  steaming  water, 
got  a  can  of  talcum  out  of  the  dish  cupboard,  and  took 
the  soap-shine  off  his  cheeks  and  chin.  He  combed  his 
hair  before  the  little  mirror  —  trying  unavailingly  to 
take  the  wave  out  of  it  with  water,  and  leaving  it  more 
crinkly  over  his  temples  than  it  had  been  in  the  first 
place  —  and  retied  the  four-in-hand  under  the  soft 
collar  of  his  shirt. 

"  I  wish  you  'd  talk,  Buck,"  he  said,  turning  toward 
the  other.  He  looked  very  boyish  and  almost  hand- 


"  I  'M  GOING  TO  TAKE  YOU  "    225 

some,  except  for  the  expression  of  his  eyes,  which  gave 
Buck  the  shivers,  and  the  set  of  his  lips,  which  was 
cruel.  "  I've  read  how  the  Chinks  hand  out  what  they 
call  the  death-of-a-thousand-cuts ;  I  was  thinking  I  'd 
like  to  try  it  out  on  you.  But  —  oh,  well,  this  is  Fri- 
day. It  may  as  well  go  as  a  hanging."  He  made  a 
poor  job  of  his  calm  irony,  but  Buck  was  not  in  the 
mental  condition  to  be  critical. 

The  main  facts  were  sufficiently  ominous  to  offset 
Ward's  attempt  at  facetiousness.  Indeed,  the  very 
weakness  of  the  attempt  was  in  itself  ominous.  Ward 
might  try  to  be  coldly  malevolent,  but  the  light  that 
burned  in  his  eyes,  and  the  rage  that  tightened  his  lips, 
gave  the  lie  to  his  forced  composure. 

He  went  out  and  led  up  the  horses  to  the  door.  He 
came  back  and  started  to  untie  Buck  Olney's  feet, 
then  bethought  him  of  the  statement  he  had  promised 
to  write.  He  got  a  magazine  and  tore  out  the  fron- 
tispiece—  which,  oddly  enough,  was  a  somber  picture 
of  Death  hovering  with  outstretched  wings  over  a  bat- 
tlefield —  and  wrote  several  lines  in  pencil  on  the  back 
of  it,  where  the  paper  was  smooth  and  white. 

"  How  's  that  ?  "  he  asked,  holding  up  the  paper  so 
that  Buck  could  read  what  he  had  written.  "  I  ain't 
in  the  mood  to  sit  down  and  write  a  whole  book,  so 
I  had  to  boil  down  your  pedigree.  But  that  will  do  the 
business  all  right,  don't  you  think  ?  " 

Buck  read  with  staring  eyes,  looked  into  Ward's  face, 
and  opened  his  lips  for  protest  or  pleading.  Then  he 
followed  Ward's  glance  to  the  knife  on  the  table  and 
shut  his  mouth  with  a  snap.  Ward  laughed  grimly, 
picked  up  the  knife,  and  ran  his  thumb  lightly  over 


226    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

the  edge  to  test  its  keenness.  "  Put  a  fresh  edge  on 
it  for  me,  huh  ? "  he  commented.  "  Well,  we  may  as 
well  get  started,  I  reckon.  I  'm  getting  almighty  sick 
of  seeing  you  around." 

He  loosened  the  rope  that  bound  Buck  to  the  chair 
and  stood  scowling  down  at  him,  drawing  in  a  corner 
of  his  lip  and  biting  it  thoughtfully.  Then  he  took  his 
revolver  and  held  it  in  his  left  hand,  while  with  his 
right  he  undid  the  rope  which  bound  Buck's  hands. 

"  Stick  your  hands  out  in  front  of  you,"  he  com- 
manded. "  You  '11  have  to  ride  a  ways ;  there  is  n't  any 
gallows  tree  in  walking  distance." 

"  For  God's  sake,  Ward !  "  Buck's  voice  was  hoarse. 
The  plea  came  out  of  its  own  accord.  He  held  his 
hands  before  him,  however,  and  he  made  no  attempt 
to  get  out  of  the  chair.  He  knew  Ward  could  shoot 
all  right  with  his  left  hand,  you  see.  He  had  watched 
him  practice  on  tin  cans,  long  ago  when  the  two  were 
friends. 

"  You  know  what  I  told  you,"  Ward  reminded  him 
grimly  and  took  up  the  knife  with  a  deadly  air  that 
made  the  other  suck  in  his  breath.  "  Hold  still !  I  'm 
liable  to  cut  your  throat  if  I  make  a  mislick." 

Really,  it  was  the  way  he  did  it  that  made  it  ter- 
rible. The  thing  itself  was  nothing.  He  merely  drew 
the  back  of  the  blade  down  alongside  Buck's  ear,  and 
permitted  the  point  to  scratch  through  the  skin  barely 
enough  to  let  out  a  thin  trickle  of  blood.  A  pin  would 
have  hurt  worse.  But  Buck  groaned  and  believed  he 
had  lost  an  ear.  He  breathed  in  gasps,  but  did  not  say 
a  word. 

"  Go  ahead ;  talk  all  you  want  to,  Buck,"  Ward  in- 


'  I  'M  GOING  TO  TAKE  YOU "    227 

vited,  and  wiped  the  knife-blade  on  Buck's  shoulder 
before  he  returned  the  weapon  to  its  sheath  in  his 
inside  coat  pocket. 

Buck  flinched  from  the  touch  and  set  his  teeth. 

Ward  tied  his  hands  before  him  and  told  him  to  get 
up  and  go  out  to  his  horse.  Buck  obeyed  with  abject 
submissiveness,  and  Ward's  lip  curled  again  as  he 
walked  behind  him  to  the  door.  He  had  not  the  slight- 
est twinge  of  pity  for  the  man.  He  was  gloatingly  glad 
that  he  could  make  him  suffer,  and  he  inwardly  cursed 
his  own  humanity  for  being  so  merciful.  He  ought 
to  have  cut  Buck's  ear  off  slick  and  clean  instead  of 
making  a  bluff  at  it,  he  told  himself  disgustedly.  Buck 
deserved  it  and  more. 

He  helped  Buck  into  the  saddle,  took  the  short  rope 
in  his  hands,  and  hobbled  Buck's  feet  under  the  horse, 
grasped  the  bridle-reins,  and  mounted  Rattler.  With- 
out a  word  he  set  off  up  the  rough  trail  toward  Hardup, 
leading  Buck's  horse  behind  him. 


CHAPTEK  XVII 

*  SO-I/ONG,    BUCK  !  " 


want  to  tel1 

you  need  n't  jolly  yourself  into  thinking  your 
death  will  be  avenged.  It  won't.  You  noticed  what 
I  wrote  ;  and  there  is  n't  a  scrap  of  my  writing  any- 
where in  the  country  to  catch  me  up  —  "  Ward's 
thoughts  went  to  Billy  Louise,  who  had  some  very  good 
samples,  and  he  stopped  suddenly.  He  was  trying 
not  to  think  of  Billj  Louise,  to-day.  "  Also,  when 
somebody  happens  to  ride  this  way  and  sees  you,  I 
won't  be  anywhen*  around." 

"  This  is  the  tree/'  he  added,  stopping  under  a  cot- 
tonwood  that  flung  a  big  branch  out  over  the  narrow 
cow-trail  they  were  traveling.  "  The  chances  are  friend 
Floyd  will  be  ambling  around  this  way  in  a  day  or 
two,"  he  said  hearteningly.  "  He  can  tend  to  the  last 
sad  rites  and  take  charge  of  your  horse.  He  's  liable 
to  be  sore  when  he  reads  your  pedigree,  but  I  don't 
reckon  that  will  mak«  a  great  deal  of  difference.  You  '11 
get  buried,  all  right,  Buck." 

Ward  dismounted  with  a  most  businesslike  man- 
ner and  untied  Buck  Olney's  rope  from  the  saddle.  "  I 
can't  spare  mine,"  he  explained  laconically.  He  had 
some  trouble  in  fashioning  a  hangman's  noose.  He  had 
not  had  muck  practice,  he  remarked  to  Buck  after  the 
first  attempt 


"  SO-LONG,  BUCK!  "  229 

"  How  do  you  do  it,  Buck  t  You  know  more  about 
these  things  than  I  do,"  he  taunted.  "  You  've  helped 
hang  lots  of  poor  devils  that  will  be  glad  to  meet  yuh 
in  hell  to-day." 

Buck  Olney  moistened  his  dry  lips.  Ward  glanced 
at  his  face  and  looked  quickly  away.  Staring,  abject 
terror  is  not  nice  to  look  upon,  even  though  the  man 
is  your  worst  enemy  and  is  suffering  justly  for  his 
sins.  Ward's  fingers  fumbled  the  rope  as  though  his 
determination  were  weakening.  Then  he  remembered 
some  things,  hunched  his  shoulders,  impatient  of  the 
merciful  impulse,  and  began  the  knot  again.  An  old 
prospector  had  shown  him  once  how  it  was  done. 

"  Of  course,  a  plain  slip-knot  would  do  the  business 
all  right,"  he  said.  "  But  I  '11  try  and  give  you  the 
genuine  thing,  same  as  you  gave  the  other  fellows." 

"  Ward,  for  God's  sake,  let  me  go !  " 

Ward  started.  He  did  not  know  that  a  man's  voica 
could  change  so  much  in  so  short  a  time.  He  never 
would  have  recognized  the  tones  as  coming  from  Buck 
Olney's  loose,  complacent  lips. 

"  Ward,  I  '11  never  —  I  'H  leare  the  country  —  I  '11 
go  to  South  America,  or  Australia,  or  —  " 

"  You  '11  go  to  hell,  Buck,"  Ward  cut  in  inexorably. 
"  You  've  got  your  ticket." 

"  I  '11  own  up  to  everything.  1 11  tell  you  where 
some  of  the  money's  cached  we  got  in  that  Hardup  deal, 
Ward.  There  's  enough  to  put  you  •»  Easy  Street.  I  '11 
tell  you  who  helped  —  " 

"You'd  better  not,"  advised  Ward  harshly,  "or 
I  '11  make  hanging  a  relief  to  you.  I  know  pretty 
well,  right  now,  all  you  could  tell.  And  if  I  wanted 


230    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

to  send  your  pardners  up,  I  would  n't  need  your  help. 
It 's  partly  to  give  them  a  chance  that  I  'm  sending  you 
out  this  way,  myself.  I  don't  call  this  murder,  Buck. 
I  'm  saving  the  State  a  lot  of  time  and  trouble,  that 's 
all ;  and  your  pardners  the  black  eye  they  'd  get  for 
throwing  in  with  you.  I  heap  sabe  who  was  the  head 
push.  You  got  them  in  to  take  whatever  dropped,  so 
you  could  get  off  slick  and  clean,  just  as  you  've  done 
before,  you  —  you  —  " 

Buck  Olney  got  it  then,  hot  from  the  fires  of  Ward's 
wrath.  A  man  does  not  brood  over  treachery  and  wrong 
and  a  blackened  future  for  years,  without  storing  up 
a  good  many  things  that  he  means  to  say  to  the  friend 
who  has  played  him  false.  Ward  had  been  a  happy-go- 
lucky  young  fellow  who  had  faith  in  men  and  in  him- 
self and  in  his  future.  He  had  lived  through  black, 
hopeless  days  and  weeks  and  months,  because  of  this 
man  who  tried  now  to  buy  mercy  with  the  faith  of  his 
partners. 

Ward  stood  up  and  let  the  rope  trail  forgotten  from 
his  hands  while  he  told  Buck  Olney  all  the  things  he 
had  brooded  over  in  bitterness.  He  had  meant  to  keep 
it  all  down,  but  it  was  another  instance  of  bottled  emo- 
tions, and  Buck,  with  his  offer  of  a  fresh  bit  of  treach- 
ery, had  pulled  the  cork.  Ward  trembled  a  little  while 
he  talked,  and  his  face  grew  paler  and  paler  as  he 
dug  deep  into  the  blackest  part  of  the  past,  until  when 
he  finished  he  was  a  tanned  white.  He  was  shaking  at 
the  last;  shaking  so  that  he  staggered  to  the  tree  and 
leaned  against  it  weakly,  while  he  fumbled  for  tobacco 
and  papers. 

In  the  saddle  Buck  sat  all  hunched  together  as  if 


"  SO-LONG,  BUCK!  "  231 

Ward  had  lashed  him  with  rawhide  instead  of  with 
stinging  words.  The  muscles  of  his  face  twitched  spas- 
modically. His  eyes  were  growing  bloodshot. 

Ward  spilled  two  papers  of  tobacco  before  he  got  a 
cigarette  rolled  and  lighted.  He  wondered  a  little  at 
the  physical  reaction  from  his  outburst,  but  he  won- 
dered more  at  Buck  Olney  sitting  alive  and  unhurt  on 
the  horse  before  him  —  a  Seabeck  horse  which  Ward 
had  seen  Floyd  Carson  riding  once  or  twice.  He  won- 
dered what  Floyd  would  do  if  he  saw  Buck  now  and 
the  use  to  which  the  horse  was  being  put. 

Ward  finished  the  cigarette,  rolled  another,  and 
smoked  that  also  before  he  could  put  his  hand  out 
before  him  and  hold  it  reasonably  steady.  When  he 
felt  fairly  sure  of  himself  again,  he  lifted  his  hat  to 
wipe  off  the  sweat  of  his  anger,  gave  a  big  sigh,  and 
returned  to  the  tying  of  the  hangman's  noose. 

When  he  finally  had  it  fixed  the  way  he  wanted  it, 
he  went  close  and  flung  the  noose  over  Buck  Olney's 
head.  He  could  not  trust  himself  to  speak  just  then. 
He  cast  an  inquiring  glance  upward,  took  Buck's  horse 
by  the  bridle,  and  led  him  forward  a  few  steps  so  that 
Buck  was  directly  under  the  overhanging  limb.  Then, 
with  the  coil  of  Buck's  rope  in  his  hand,  he  turned  back 
and  squirmed  up  the  tree-trunk  until  he  had  reached 
the  limb.  He  crawled  out  until  he  was  over  Buck's 
bullet-punctured  hat-crown,  sliced  off  what  rope  he 
did  not  need,  and  flung  it  to  the  ground.  He  saw  Buck 
wince  as  the  rope  went  past  him.  The  pinto  horse  shied 
out  of  position. 

"  Take  the  reins  and  bring  him  back  here !  "  Ward 
called  shortly,  and  gave  a  twitch  of  the  rope  as  a  hint. 


232    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Mechanically  Buck  obeyed.  He  did  not  know  that 
the  rope  was  not  yet  tied  to  the  limb. 

Ward  tied  the  rope  securely,  leaving  enough  slack 
to  keep  Buck  from  choking  prematurely.  He  fussed  a 
minute  longer,  with  his  lip  curled  into  a  grin  of  sar- 
donic humor.  Then  he  crawled  back  to  the  trunk  of 
the  tree  and  slid  down  carefully  so  that  he  would  not 
frighten  the  pinto. 

He  went  up  and  took  the  hobble  off  Buck  Olney's 
feet,  felt  in  the  seam  of  his  coat-lapel,  and  pulled  out 
four  pins,  with  which  he  fastened  Buck's  "  pedigree  " 
between  Buck's  shrinking  shoulder-blades.  Then  he 
stood  off  and  surveyed  his  work  critically  before  he 
went  over  to  Rattler,  who  stood  dozing  in  the  sun- 
shine. 

"  Sorry  I  can't  stay  to  see  you  off,"  he  told  Buck 
maliciously.  "  I  're  decided  to  let  you  go  alone  and 
take  your  own  time  about  starting.  As  long  as  that 
cayuse  stands  where  he  is,  you  're  safe  as  a  church. 
And  you  've  got  the  reins ;  you  can  kick  off  any  time 
you  feel  like  it.  Sabe  ?  "  He  studied  Buck's  horror- 
marked  face  pitilessly. 

"  You  've  got  about  one  chance  in  a  million  that  you 
can  make  that  pinto  stand  there  till  someone  comes 
along,"  he  pointed  out  impartially.  "  I  'm  willing  to 
give  you  that  chance,  such  as  it  is.  And  if  you  're  lucky 
enough  to  win  out  on  it  —  well,  I  'd  advise  you  to  do 
some  going !  South  America  is  about  as  close  as  you  '11 
be  safe.  Folks  around  here  are  going  to  know  all  about 
you,  old-timer,  whether  they  get  to  read  what 's  on  your 
back  or  not. 

"  And,  on  the  other  hand,  it 's  a  million-to-one  shot 


"  SO-LONG,  BUCK!  "  233 

you  '11  land  where  your  ticket  reads.  I  'd  hate  to  gam- 
ble on  that  horse  standing  in  one  spot  for  two  or  three 
days,  would  n't  you  ? "  He  wheeled  Rattler  unob- 
trusively, his  eye  on  the  pinto.  "  I  hope  he  doji't  try 
to  follow,"  he  said.  "  I  want  you  to  have  a  little  time 
to  think  about  the  things  I  said  to  you.  Well,  so-long." 

Ward  rode  back  the  way  he  had  come,  glancing  fre- 
quently over  his  shoulder  at  Buck,  slumped  in  the  sad- 
dle with  a  paper  pinned  to  his  back  like  a  fire-warning 
on  a  tree,  and  his  own  grass  rope  noosed  about  his  neck 
and  connecting  him  with  the  cottonwood  limb  six  feet 
above  his  hat  crown. 

Ward  had  not  ridden  a  hundred  yards  before  he 
heard  Buck  Olney  scream  hysterically  for  help.  He 
grinned  sourly  with  his  eyebrows  pinched  together  and 
that  hard,  strained  look  in  his  eyes  still.  "  Let  him 
holler  awhile !  "  he  gritted.  "  Do  him  good,  damn 
him !  " 

TJntil  distance  and  the  intervening  hills  set  a  wall 
of  silence  between,  Ward  heard  Buck  screaming  in  fear 
of  death,  screaming  until  he  was  so  hoarse  he  could 
only  whisper ;  screaming  because  he  had  not  seen  Ward 
take  his  knife  and  slice  the  rope  upon  the  limb  so  that 
it  would  not  have  held  the  weight  of  a  rabbit. 


s 
CHAPTER  XVIH 

FORTUNE  KICKS  AGAIN 

IT  was  past  noon  when  Ward  rode  down  the  steep 
slope  to  the  creek  bank  just  above  his  cabin.  He 
was  sunk  deep  in  that  mental  depression  which  so  often 
follows  close  upon  the  heels  of  a  great  outburst  of  pas- 
sion. Mechanically  he  twitched  the  reins  and  sent  Rat- 
tler down  the  last  shelf  of  bank  —  and  he  did  not  look 
up  to  see  just  where  he  was.  Rattler  was  a  well-trained 
horse,  since  he  was  Ward's.  He  obeyed  the  rein  signal 
and  stepped  off  a  two-foot  bank  into  a  nest  of  loose- 
piled  rocks  that  slid  treacherously  under  his  feet.  Sure- 
footed though  he  was,  he  stumbled  and  fell ;  and  it  was 
sheer  instinct  that  took  Ward's  feet  from  the  stirrups 
in  time. 

Ward  sprawled  among  the  rocks,  dazed.  The  shock 
of  the  fall  took  him  out  of  his  fit  of  abstraction,  and 
he  pulled  away  from  Rattler  as  the  horse  scrambled  up 
and  stood  shaking  before  him.  He  tried  to  scramble  up 
also.  .-  .  . 

Ward  sat  and  stared  stupidly  at  his  left  leg  where, 
midway  between  his  knee  and  his  foot,  it  turned  out  at 
an  unnatural  angle.  He  thought  resentfully  that  he 
had  had  enough  trouble  for  once,  without  having  a 
broken  leg  on  top  of  it  all. 

"  Now  this  is  one  hell  of  a  fix !"  he  stated  dispas- 


FORTUNE  KICKS  AGAIN       235 

sionately,  when  pain  had  in  a  measure  cooled  his  first 
anger.  He  looked  around  him  like  a  man  who  is  taking 
stock  of  his  resources.  He  was  not  far  from  the  cabin. 
He  could  get  there  by  crawling.  But  what  then? 

Ward  looked  at  Rattler,  standing  docilely  within 
reach  of  his  hand.  He  considered  getting  on  —  if  he 
could,  and  riding  —  well,  the  nearest  place  was  fifteen 
miles.  And  that  was  a  good,  long  way  from  a  doctor. 
He  glanced  again  at  the  cabin  and  tried  to  study  .the 
situation  impersonally.  If  it  were  some  other  fellow, 
now,  what  would  Ward  advise  him  to  do  under  the 
circumstances  ? 

He  reached  down  and  felt  his  leg  gingerly.  So  far 
as  he  could  tell,  it  was  a  straight,  simple  break  — 
snapped  short  off  against  a  rock,  he  judged.  He  shook 
his  head  over  the  thought  of  riding  fifteen  miles  with 
those  broken  bones  grinding  their  edges  together.  And 
still,  what  else  could  he  do? 

He  reached  out,  took  the  reins,  and  led  Rattler  a  step 
nearer,  so  that  he  could  grasp  the  stirrup.  With  his 
voice  he  held  the  horse  quiet  while  he  pulled  himself  up- 
right upon  his  good  leg.  Then,  with  pain-hurried, 
jerky  movements,  he  pulled  off  the  saddle,  glanced 
around  him,  and  flung  it  behind  a  buck-brush.  He 
slipped  off  the  bridle,  flung  that  after  the  saddle,  and 
gave  Rattler  a  slap  on  the  rump.  The  horse  moved 
away,  and  Ward  stared  after  him  with  set  lips.  "  Any- 
way, you  can  look  after  yourself,"  he  said  and  bal- 
anced upon  his  right  leg  while  he  swung  around  and 
faced  the  cabin.  It  was  not  far  —  to  a  man  with  two 
sound  legs.  A  hundred  yards,  perhaps. 

Ward  crawled  there  on  his  hands  and  one  knee,  drag- 


236    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

ging  the  broken  leg  after  him.  It  was  not  a  nice  ex- 
perience, but  it  served  one  good  purpose:  It  wiped 
from  his  mind  all  thought  of  that  black  past  wherein 
Buck  had  figured  so  shamefully.  He  had  enough  to 
think  of  with  his  present  plight,  without  worrying  over 
the  past. 

In  half  an  hour  or  so  Ward  rested  his  arms  upon 
his  own  doorstep  and  dropped  his  perspiring  face  upon 
them.  He  lay  there  a  long  while,  in  a  dead  faint. 

After  awhile  he  moved,  lifted  his  head,  and  looked 
about  him  dully  at  first  and  then  with  a  certain  stoical 
acceptance  of  his  plight.  He  looked  into  the  immediate 
future  and  tried  to  forecast  its  demands  upon  his 
strength  and  to  prepare  for  them.  He  crawled  farther 
up  on  the  step,  reached  the  latch,  and  opened  the  door. 
He  crawled  in,  pulled  himself  up  by  the  foot  of  his 
bunk,  and  sat  down  weakly  with  his  head  in  his  hands. 
Like  a  hurt  animal,  he  had  obeyed  his  instinct  and  had 
crawled  home.  What  next? 

If  Ward  had  been  a  weaker  man,  he  would  have 
answered  that  question  speedily  with  his  gun.  He  did 
think  of  it  contemptuously  as  an  easy  way  out.  If  he 
had  never  met  Billy  Louise,  he  might  possibly  have 
chosen  that  way.  But  Ward  had  changed  much  in 
the  past  two  years,  and  at  the  worst  he  had  never  been 
a  coward.  His  hurt  was  sending  waves  of  nausea  over 
him,  so  that  he  could  not  concentrate  his  mind  upon 
anything.  Then  he  thought  of  the  bottle  of  whisky 
he  kept  in  his  bunk  for  emergencies.  Ward  was  not 
a  man  who  drank  for  pleasure,  but  he  had  the  Western 
man's  faith  in  a  good  jolt  of  whisky  when  he  felt  a  cold 
coming  on  or  a  pain  in  his  stomach  —  or  anything  like 


FORTUNE  KICKS  AGAIN        237 

that.  He  always  kept  a  bottle  on  hand.  A  quart  lasted 
him  a  long  time. 

He  felt  along  the  footboard  of  the  bunk  till  his  fin- 
gers touched  the  bottle,  drew  it  out  from  its  hiding- 
place  —  he  hid  it  because  stray  callers  would  have  made 
short  work  of  it  —  and,  placing  the  uncorked  bottle  to 
his  trembling  lips,  swallowed  twice. 

He  was  steadier  now,  and  the  sickness  left  him  like 
fog  before  a  stiff  breeze.  His  eyes  went  slowly  around 
the  cabin,  measuring  his  resources,  and  his  needs  and 
limitations.  He  pulled  his  one  chair  toward  him  —  the 
chair  which  Buck  Olney  had  occupied  so  unwillingly  — 
and  placed  his  left  knee  upon  it.  It  hurt  terribly,  but 
the  whisky  had  steadied  him  so  that  he  could  bear 
the  pain.  He  managed  to  reach  the  cupboard  where 
he  kept  his  dishes,  and  took  down  a  bottle  of  liniment 
and  a  box  of  carbolized  vaseline  which  he  happened 
to  have.  He  was  near  the  two  big,  zinc  water  pails 
which  he  had  filled  that  morning  just  to  show  Buck 
Olney  how  cool  he  was  over  his  capture,  and  he  be- 
thought him  that  water  was  going  to  be  precious  in 
the  next  few  weeks. 

He  lifted  down  one  pail  and  swung  it  forward  as 
far  as  he  could,  and  set  it  on  the  floor  ahead  of  him. 
Then  he  swung  the  other  pail  beside  it.  Painfully  he 
hitched  his  chair  alongside,  lifted  the  pails  and  set 
them  forward  again.  He  did  that  twice  and  got  them 
beside  his  bunk.  He  went  back  and  inspected  the  tea- 
kettle, found  it  half  full,  and  carried  that  also  beside 
the  bunk.  Then  he  took  another  drink  of  whisky  and 
rested  awhile. 

Bandages!     Well,  there  was  a  new  flour-sack  hang- 


238    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

ing  on  a  nail.  He  stood  up,  leaned  and  got  it,  and  while 
he  was  standing,  he  reached  for  the  cigar-box  where 
he  kept  his  bachelor  sewing  outfit;  two  spools  of  very 
coarse  thread,  some  large-eyed  needles  to  carry  it,  an 
assortment  of  buttons,  and  a  pair  of  scissors.  He  cut 
the  flour-sack  into  strips  and  sewed  the  strips  together ; 
his  stitches  were  neater  than  you  might  think. 

When  the  bandage  was  long  enough,  he  rolled  it  as 
he  had  seen  doctors  do,  and  fished  some  pins  out  of 
the  cigar-box  and  laid  them  where  he  could  get  his 
fingers  on  them  quickly.  He  stood  up  again,  reached 
across  to  a  box  of  canned  milk,  and  pried  off  the  lid. 
"  I  'm  liable  to  need  you,  too,"  he  muttered  to  the  rows 
of  cans,  and  pulled  the  box  close.  He  took  Buck 
Olney's  knife  and  whittled  some  very  creditable  splints 
from  the  thin  boards,  and  rummaged  in  his  "  warbag  " 
under  the  bunk  for  handkerchiefs  with  which  to  wrap 
the  splints. 

When  he  had  done  all  that  he  could  do  to  prepare 
for  the  long  siege  of  pain  and  helplessness  ahead  of 
him,  he  moved  along  the  bunk  until  he  was  sitting  near 
the  head  of  it  with  his  broken  leg  extended  before  him, 
and  took  a  last  look  to  make  sure  that  everything  was 
ready.  He  felt  nis  gun  at  his  hip,  removed  belt  and 
all,  and  threw  it  back  upon  the  bed.  Then  he  turned 
his  head  and  stared,  frowning,  at  the  black  butt  where 
it  protruded  from  the  holster  suggestively  ready  to  his 
hand.  He  reached  out  and  took  the  gun,  turned  it 
over,  and  hesitated.  !N~o  telling  what  insane  impulse 
fever  might  bring  upon  him  —  and  still  —  no  telling 
what  Buck  Olney  might  do  when  he  discovered  that 
he  was  not  in  any  immediate  danger  of  hanging. 


FORTUNE  KICKS  AGAIN        239 

If  Buck  came  back  to  have  it  out  with  him,  he 
would  certainly  need  that  gun.  He  knew  Buck;  a 
broken  leg  would  n't  save  him.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  the  fever  of  his  hurt  hit  him  hard  enough  —  "  Oh, 
fiddlesticks!  "  he  told  himself  at  last.  "  If  I -get  crazy 
enough  for  that,  the  gun  won't  cut  much  ice  one  way 
or  the  other.  There  are  other  ways  of  bumping  off  - 
So  he  tucked  the  gun  under  the  mattress  at  the  head 
of  his  bed  where  he  could  put  his  hand  upon  it  if  the 
need  came. 

Then  he  removed  his  boots  by  the  simple  method  of 
slitting  the  legs  with  Buck's  knife,  bared  his  broken 
leg  in  the  same  manner,  swallowed  again  from  the  bot- 
tle, braced  himself  mentally  and  physically,  gritted 
his  teeth,  and  went  doggedly  to  work. 

A  man  never  knows  just  how  much  he  can  endure 
or  what  he  can  do  until  he  is  making  his  last  stand 
in  the  fight  for  self-preservation.  Ward  had  no  mind 
to  lie  there  and  die  of  blood-poisoning,  for  instance; 
and  broken  bones  do  not  set  themselves.  So,  sweating 
and  swearing  with  the  agony  of  it,  he  set  his  leg  and 
bound  the  splints  in  place,  and  thanked  the  Lord  it 
was  a  straight,  clean  break  and  that  the  flesh  was  not 
torn. 

Then  he  dropped  back  upon  the  bed  and  did  n't  care 
whether  he  lived  or  not. 

Followed  days  of  fever,  -  through  which  Ward  lived 
crazily  and  lost  count  of  the  hours  as  they  passed. 
Days  when  he  needed  good  nursing,  and  did  not  get 
so  much  as  a  drink  of  water,  except  through  pain  and 
effort.  Hours  when  he  cursed  Buck  Olney  and  thought 
he  had  him  bound  to  the  chair  in  the  cabin.  Hours 


240    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

when  he  watched  for  him,  gun  in  hand,  through  the 
window  beside  the  bunk. 

It  was  while  he  was  staring  glassy-eyed  through  the 
window  that  his  attention  wandered  to  the  big,  white 
bowl  of  stewed  prunes.  They  looked  good,  with  their 
shiny,  succulent  plumpness  standing  up  like  little  wrin- 
kled islands  in  the  small  sea  of  brown  juice.  Ward 
reached  out  with  his  left  hand  —  he  was  gripping  the 
gun  in  his  right,  ready  for  Buck  when  he  showed  up 
—  and  picked  a  prune  out  of  the  dish.  It  was  his  first 
morsel  of  food  since  the  morning  when  he  had  tried 
to  eat  his  breakfast  while  Buck  Olney  stared  at  him 
with  the  furtive  malevolence  of  a  trapped  animal.  That 
was  three  days  ago.  The  prune  tasted  even  better  than 
it  looked.  Ward  picked  out  another  and  another. 

He  forgot  his  feverish  hallucination  that  Buck  Olney 
was  waiting  outside  there  until  he  caught  Ward  off  his 
guard.  He  lay  back  on  his  pillow,  his  fingers  relaxed 
upon  the  gun.  He  closed  his  eyes  and  lay  quiet.  Per- 
haps he  slept  a  little. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes  he  was  in  the  dark.  The 
window  was  a  transparent  black  square  sprinkled  with 
stars.  Ward  watched  them  awhile.  He  thought  of 
Billy  Louise;  he  would  like  to  know  how  her  mother 
was  getting  along  and  how  much  longer  they  expected 
to  stay  in  Boise.  He  thought  of  the  times  she  had 
kissed  him  —  twice,  and  of  her  own  accord.  She  would 
not  have  done  it,  either  time,  if  he  had  asked  her;  he 
knew  her  well  enough  for  that.  She  must  be  left  free 
to  obey  the  impulses  of  that  big,  brave  heart  of  hers. 
A  girl  with  a  smaller  soul  and  one  less  fine  would  have 
blushed  and  simpered  and  acted  the  fool  generally  at 


the  mere  thought  of  kissing  a  man  of  her  own  accord. 
Billy  Louise  had  been  tender  as  Christ  Himself,  and 
as  sweet  and  pure.  Was  there  another  girl  like  her 
in  the  world?  Ward  looked  at  the  stars  and  smiled. 
There  was  never  such  another,  he  told  himself.  And 
she  "  liked  him  to  pieces  " ;  she  had  said  so.  Ward 
laughed  a  little  in  spite  of  his  throbbing  leg."  "  Some 
other  girl  would  have  said,  '  Ward,  I  lo-ove  you,'  "  he 
grinned.  "  Wilhemina  is  different." 

He  lay  there  looking  up  at  the  stars  and  thinking, 
thinking.  Once  his  lips  moved.  He  was  saying 
"  Wilhemina-mine  "  softly  to  himself.  His  eyes, '  shin- 
ing in  the  starlight,  were  very  tender.  After  a  long 
while  he  fell  asleep,  still  thinking  of  her.  A  late  moon 
came  up  and  touched  his  face  and  showed  it  thin  and 
sunken-eyed,  yet  with  the  little  smile  hidden  behind  his 
lips,  for  he  was  dreaming  of  Billy  Louise. 

Some  time  after  daylight  Ward  woke  and  wanted  a 
cigarette,  which  was  a  sign  that  he  was  feeling  a  little 
more  like  himself.  He  was  feverish  still,  and  the  beat- 
ing pain  in  his  leg  was.  maddening.  But  his  brain 
was  clear  of  fever-fog.  He  smoked  a  little  of  the 
cigarette  he  made  from  the  supply  on  the  shelf  behind 
the  bunk,  and  after  that  he  looked  about  him  for  some- 
thing to  eat. 

He  had  made  a  final  trip  to  Hardup  two  weeks  be- 
fore, and  had  brought  back  supplies  for  the  winter. 
And  because  his  pay  streak  of  gravel-bank  had  yielded 
a  fair  harvest,  he  had  not  stinted  himself  on  the  things 
he  liked  to  eat.  He  lay  looking  over  the  piled  boxes 
against  the  farther  wall,  and  wondered  if  he  could  reach 
the  box  of  crackers  and  drag  it  up  beside  the  bunk.  He 


was  weak,  and  to  move  his  leg  was  agony.  Well,  there 
was  the  dish  of  prunes  on  the  window-sill. 

Ward  ate  a  dozen  or  so  —  but  he  wanted  the  crack- 
ers. He  leaned  as  far  as  he  could  from  the  bed,  and 
the  box  was  still  two  feet  from  his  outstretched  fingers. 
He  lay  and  considered  how  he  might  bring  the  box 
within  reach. 

At  the  head  of  the  bunk  stood  the  case  of  peaches 
and  beneath  that  the  case  of  canned  tomatoes,  the  two 
forming  a  stand  for  his  lantern.  He  eyed  them  thought- 
fully, chewing  a  corner  of  his  underlip.  He  did  not 
want  peaches  or  tomatoes  just  then;  he  wanted  those 
soda-crackers. 

He  took  Buck  Olney's  knife  —  he  was  finding  it  a 
most  useful  souvenir  of  the  encounter !  —  and  pried  off 
a  board  from  the  peach  box.  Two  nails  stuck  out 
through  each  end  of  the  board.  He  leaned  again  from 
the  bed,  reached  out  with  the  board,  and  caught  the 
nails  in  a  crack  on  the  upper  edge  of  the  cracker-box. 
He  dragged  the  box  toward  him  until  it  caught  against 
a  ridge  in  the  rough  board  floor,  when  the  nails  bent 
outward  and  slipped  away  from  the  crack.  Ward  lay 
back,  exhausted  with  the  effort  he  had  made  and  tor- 
mented with  the  pain  in  his  leg. 

After  awhile  he  took  the  piece  of  board  and  managed 
to  slide  it  under  the  box,  lifting  a  corner  of  it  over 
the  ridge.  That  was  hard  work,  harder  than  you  would 
believe  unless  you  tried  it  yourself  after  lying  three 
days  fasting,  with  a  broken  leg  and  a  fever.  He  had 
to  rest  again  before  he  took  the  other  end  of  the  board, 
that  had  the  good  nails,  and  pulled  the  box  up  beside 
the  bunk. 


FORTUNE  KICKS  AGAIN        243 

In  a  few  minutes  he  made  another  effort  and  pried 
part  of  the  cover  off  the  cracker-box  with  the  knife. 
Then  he  pulled  out  half  a  dozen  crackers  and  ate  them, 
drank  half  a  dipper  of  water,  and  felt  better. 

In  an  hour  or  so  he  believed  he  could  stand •  it  to  fix 
up  his  leg  a  little.  There  was  one  splint  that  was  poorly 
wrapped,  or  something.  It  felt  as  though  it  were  dig- 
ging slivers  into  his  leg,  and  he  could  n't  stand  it  any 
longer. 

He  pulled  himself  up  until  he  was  sitting  with  his 
back  against  the  wall  at  the  head  of  his  bunk  and 
smoked  a  cigarette  before  he  went  any  farther.  Then 
he  unwrapped  the  bandage  carefully,  removed  the  splint 
that  hurt  the  worst,  and  gently  massaged  the  crease  in 
the  bruised,  swollen  flesh  where  the  narrow  board  had 
pressed  so  cruelly. 

The  crease  itched  horribly,  and  it  was  too  sore  to 
scratch.  Ward  cussed  it  and  then  got  the  carbolized 
vaseline  and  rubbed  that  on,  wincing  at  the  pain  of 
his  lightest  touch.  He  did  not  hurry;  he  had  all  the 
time  there  was,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  get  the  bandage 
off  his  leg  for  awhile.  You  may  be  sure  he  was  very 
careful  not  to  move  those  broken  bones  a  hair's  breadth ! 

He  rubbed  on  the  vaseline,  fearing  the  liniment  would 
blister  and  increase  his  discomfort,  and  replaced  splint 
and  bandage.  He  was  terribly  tired  afterwards  and 
lay  in  a  half  stupor  for  a  long  while.  He  realized  keenly 
that  he  had  a  tough  pull  ahead  of  him,  unless  someone 
chanced  to  ride  that  way  and  so  discovered  his  plight ; 
which  was  so  unlikely  that  he  did  not  build  any  hope? 
upon  it. 

He  had  held  himself  aloof  from  the  men  of  the 


244    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

country.  He  knew  the  Seabeck  riders  by  sight ;  he  had 
talked  a  little  with  Floyd  Carson  two  or  three  times, 
and  had  met  Seabeck  himself.  He  knew  Charlie  Fox 
in  a  purely  casual  way,  as  has  been  related ;  and  Peter 
Howling  Dog  the  same. 

None  of  these  men  were  likely  to  ride  out  of  their 
way  to  see  him.  And  now  that  his  mind  worked  ra- 
tionally, he  had  no  fear  of  Buck  Olney's  vengeful 
return.  Buck  Olney,  he  guessed  shrewdly,  was  ex- 
tremely busy  just  now,  putting  as  many  miles  as  pos- 
sible between  himself  and  that  part  of  Idaho.  Unless 
Billy  Louise  should  come  or  send  for  him,  he  would 
in  all  probability  lie  alone  there  until  he  was  able  to 
walk.  Ward  did  not  try  to  comfort  himself  with  any 
delusions  of  hope. 

As  the  days  passed,  he  settled  himself  grimly  to  the 
business  of  getting  through  the  ordeal  as  comfortably 
as  possible.  He  had  food  within  his  reach,  and  a  scant 
supply  of  water.  He  worked  out  the  question  of  diet 
and  of  using  his  resources  to  the  best  advantage.  He 
had  nothing  else  to  do,  and  his  alert  mind  seized  upon 
the  situation  and  brought  it  down  to  a  fine  system. 

For  instance,  he  did  not  open  a  can  of  fruit  until 
the  prunes  were  gone.  Then  he  emptied  a  can  of  toma- 
toes into  the  bowl  as  a  safeguard  against  ptomaine 
poisoning  from  the  tin,  and  set  the  empty  can  on  the 
floor.  During  the  warm  part  of  each  day  he  slid  open 
the  window  by  his  bunk  and  lay  with  the  fresh  air  fan- 
ning his  face  and  lifting  the  hair  from  his  aching 
temples. 

He  tried  to  eat  regularly  and  to  make  the  fruit  juice 
save  his  water  supply.  Sometimes  he  chewed  jerked 


FORTUNE  KICKS  AGAIN        245 

venison  from  the  bag  over  his  head,  but  not  very  often ; 
the  salt  in  the  meat  made  him  drink  too  much.  On 
the  whole,  his  diet  was  healthful  and  in  a  measure  satis- 
fying. He  did  not  suffer  from  the  want  of  ajiy  real 
necessity,  at  any  rate.  He  smoked  a  good  many  cig- 
arettes, but  he  was  wise  enough  to  leave  the  bottle  of 
whisky  alone  after  that  first  terrible  time  when  it 
helped  him  through  a  severe  ordeal. 

He  had  his  few  books  within  reach.  He  read  a  good 
deal,  to  keep  from  thinking  too  much,  and  he  tried 
to  meet  the  days  with  philosophic  calm.  He  might 
easily  be  a  great  deal  worse  off  than  he  was,  he  fre- 
quently reminded  himself.  For  instance,  if  he  had 
been  able  to  build  another  room  on  to  his  cabin,  his 
bunk  and  his  food  supply  would  have  been  so  widely 
separated  as  to  cause  him  much  hardship.  There  were, 
he  admittecf  to  himself,  certain  advantages  in  living  in 
one  small  room.  He  could  lie  in  bed  and  reach  nearly 
everything  he  really  needed. 

But  he  was  lonesome.  So  lonesome  that  there  were 
times  when  life  looked  absolutely  worthless;  when  the 
blue  devils  made  him  their  plaything,  and  he  saw  Billy 
Louise  looking  scornfully  upon  him  and  loving  some 
other  man  better;  when  he  saw  his  name  blackened  by 
the  suspicion  that  he  was  a  rustler  —  preying  upon  his 
neighbors'  cattle;  when  he  saw  Buck  Olney  laughing 
in  derision  of  his  mercy  and  fixing  fresh  evidence 
against  him  to  confound  him  utterly. 

He  had  all  those  moods,  and  they  left  their  own  lines 
upon  his  face.  But  he  had  one  thing  to  hearten  him, 
and  that  was  the  steady  progress  of  his  broken  leg 
toward  recovery.  A  long,  tedious  process  it  was,  of 


246    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

necessity;  but  as  nearly  as  he  could  judge,  the  bone 
was  knitting  together  and  would  be  straight  and  strong 
again,  if  he  did  not  try  to  hurry  it  too  much.  He 
tried  to  keep  count  of  the  weeks  as  they  passed.  When 
the  days  slid  behind  him  until  he  feared  he  could  not 
remember,  he  cut  a  little  notch  on  the  window-sill  each 
morning  with  Buck's  knife,  with  every  seventh  day  a 
longer  and  deeper  notch  than  the  others  to  mark  the 
weeks.  The  first  three  days  had  been  so  hazy  that  he 
thought  them  only  two  and  marked  them  so;  but  that 
put  him  only  one  day  out  of  his  reckoning. 

He  lay  there  and  saw  snow  slither  past  his  window, 
driven  by  a  whooping  wind.  It  worried  him  to  know 
that  his  calves  were  unsheltered  and  unfed  while  his 
long  stack  of  hay  stood  untouched  —  unless  the  cattle 
broke  down  his  fence  and  reached  it.  He  hoped  they 
would;  but  he  was  a  thorough  workman,  and  in  his 
heart  he  knew  that  fence  would  stand. 

He  saw  cold  rains  and  sleet.  Then  there  were  days 
when  he  shivered  under  his  blankets  and  would  have 
given  much  for  a  cup  of  hot  coffee;  days  when  the 
water  froze  in  the  pails  beside  the  bed  —  what  little 
water  was  left  —  and  he  chipped  off  pieces  of  ice  and 
sucked  them  to  quench  his  thirst.  Days  when  the  to- 
matoes and  peaches  were  frozen  in  the  cans,  so  that 
he  chewed  jerked  venison  and  ate  crackers  rather  than 
chill  his  stomach  with  the  icy  stuff. 

Day  by  day  the  little  notches  and  the  longer  ones 
reached  farther  and  farther  along  the  window-sill,  until 
Ward  began  to  foresee  the  time  when  he  must  start 
a  new  row.  Day  by  day  his  cheek-bones  grew  more 
clearly  defined,  his  eyes  bigger  and  more  wistful.  Day 


FORTUNE  KICKS  AGAIN        247 

by  day  his  knuckles  stood  up  sharper  when  he  closed 
his  hands,  and  day  by  day  Mature  worked  upon  his  hurt, 
knitting  the  bones  together. 

But,  though  he  was  lean  to  the  point  of  being  skinny, 
his  eyes  were  clear,  and  what  little  flesh  he  had  was 
healthy  flesh.  Though  he  was  lonesome  and  hungry 
for  action  and  for  sight  of  Billy  Louise,  his  mind  had 
not  grown  morbid.  He  learned  more  of  the  Bobbie 
Burns  verses,  and  he  could  repeat  The  Rhyme  of  the 
Three  Sealers  in  his  sleep,  and  most  of  The  Lady  of 
the  Lake.  He  used  to  lie  and  sing  at  the  top  of  his  voice, 
sometimes :  The  Chisholm  Trail  —  unexpurgated  — 
and  Sam  Bass  and  that  doleful  ditty  about  the  Lone 
Prairie,  and  quaint  old  Scottish  songs  he  had  heard  his 
mother  sing,  long  and  long  ago.  His  leg  would  heal 
of  itself  if  he  let  it  alone  long  enough,  he  reminded 
himself  often.  His  mind  he  must  watch  carefully,  if 
he  would  keep  it  healthy.  He  knew  that,  and  each  day 
had  its  own  little  battle-ground.  Sometimes  he  won,  and 
sometimes  the  fight  went  against  him  —  as  is  the  way 
with  the  world. 


CHAPTEE  XIX 

THE  BBAVE  BUCKAROO 

"  BOISE,  IDAHO,  December  23. 
"  BRAVE  BUCKAEOO, — 

"  I  wonder  if  you  ever  in  your  whole  life  got  a  Christ- 
mas present  ?  I  Ve  been  cultivating  the  Louise  of  me, 
and  here  are  the  first  fruits  of  my  endeavor;  I  guess 
that 's  the  way  they  say  it.  I  Ve  spent  so  much  time 
sitting  by  mommie  when  she  's  asleep,  and  I  get  tired 
of  reading  all  the  time,  so  a  nurse  in  this  ward  - 
mommie  has  a  room  to  herself  of  course,  but  not  a  spe- 
cial nurse,  because  I  can  do  a  lot  of  the  little  things  — 
well,  the  nurse  taught  me  how  to  hemstitch.  So  I  got 
some  silk  and  made  some  nice,  soft  neckerchiefs  —  one 
for  you  and  one  for  me. 

"  This  one  I  made  last.  I  did  n't  want  your  eagle 
eyes  seeing  all  the  bobbly  stitches  on  the  first  one.  I 
hope  you  like  it,  Ward.  Every  stitch  stands  for 
a  thought  of  the  hills  and  our  good  times.  I  Ve  brought 
Minervy  back  to  life,  and  I  try  to  play  my  old  pre- 
tends sometimes.  But  they  always  break  up  into  pieces. 
I  'm  not  a  kid  now,  you  see.  And  life  is  a  lot  dif- 
ferent when  you  get  out  into  it,  is  n't  it  ? 

"  Mommie  does  n't  seem  to  get  much  better.  I  'm 
worried  about  her.  She  seems  to  have  let  go,  some- 
how. She  never  talks  about  the  ranch  much,  or  even 


THE  BRAVE  BUCKAROO         249 

worries  about  whether  Phoebe  is  keeping  the  windows 
washed.  She  talks  about  when  she  was  a  little  girl, 
and  about  when  she  and  daddy  were  first  married.  It 
gets  on  my  nerves  to  see  how  she  has  slipped  out  of 
every-day  life.  The  nurse  says  that 's  common,  though, 
in  sickness.  She  says  I  could  go  home  and  look  after 
things  for  a  week  or  so  just  as  well  as  not.  She  says 
mommie  would  be  all  right.  But  I  hate  to  leave  her. 

"  I  'm  awfully  homesick  for  a  good  old  ride  on  Blue. 
I  miss  him  terribly.  Have  you  seen  anything  of  the 
Cove  folks  lately  ?  Seems  like  I  'm  clear  out  of  the 
world.  I  hate  town,  anyway,  and  a  hospital  is  the 
limit  for  dismalness.  Even  the  Louise  of  me  is  get- 
ting, ready  to  do  something  awful  if  I  have  to  stay  much 
longer.  Mommie  sleeps  most  of  the  time.  I  believe 
they  dope  her  with  something.  She  does  n't  have  that 
awful  pain  so  bad.  So  I  don't  have  anything  to  do  but 
sit  around  and  read  and  sew  and  wait  for  her  to  wake 
up  and  want  something. 

"  Pal,  the  Billy  of  me  is  at  the  exploding  point !  I 
believe  I  '11  wind  up  by  getting  out  in  the  corridor  some 
day  and  shooting  holes  in  all  the  steam  radiators !  Did 
you  ever  live  with  one,  Ward  ?  Nasty,  sizzly  things ; 
they  drive  me  wild.  I  'd  give  the  best  cow  in  the  bunch 
for  just  one  hour  in  front  of  our  old  stone  fireplace 
and  see  the  sparks  go  up  the  chimney,  and  hear  the 
coyotes.  Honest  to  goodness,  I  'd  rather  hear  a  coyote 
howl  than  any  music  on  earth  —  unless  maybe  it  was 
you  singing  a  ten-dollar  hoss  an'  a  forty:dollar  saddle. 
I  'd  like  to  hear  that  old  trail  song  once  more.  I  sure 
would,  Ward.  I  'd  like  to  hear  it,  coming  down  old 
Wolverine  canyon.  Oh,  I  just  can't  stand  it  much 


250    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

longer.  I  'm  liable  to  wrap  mommie  in  a  blanket  and 
crawl  out  the  window,  some  night,  and  hit  the  trail 
for  home.  I  believe  I  could  cure  her  quicker  right 
on  the  ranch.  I  wish  I  'd  never  brought  her  here ;  I 
believe  it 's  just  a  scheme  of  the  doctors  to  get  money 
out  of  us.  I  know  my  poultices  did  just  as  much  good 
as  their  old  dope  does. 

"  And  this  is  Christmas,  almost.  I  wonder  what 
you  '11  be  doing.  Say,  Ward,  if  you  want  to  be  a  per- 
fect jewel  of  a  man,  send  me  some  of  that  jerky  you  've 
got  hanging  at  the  head  of  your  bunk.  I  swiped  some, 
that  last  time  I  was  there.  It  would  taste  mighty  good 
to  me  now,  after  all  these  hospital  slops. 

"  And  write  me  a  nice,  long  letter,  won't  you  ?  That 's 
a  good  buckaroo.  I  've  got  to  stop  —  mommie  is  be- 
ginning to  wake  up,  and  it 's  time  for  the  doctor  to 
come  in  and  read  the  chart  and  look  wise  and  say: 
1  Well,  how  are  we  to-day  ?  Pretty  bright,  eh  ? '  I  'd 
like  to  kick  him  clear  across  the  corridor  —  that  is,  the 
Billy  of  me  would.  And  believe  me,  the  Billy  of  me 
is  sure  going  to  break  out,  some  of  these  days! 

"  I  hope  you  like  the  neckerchief.  I  want  you  to 
wear  it ;  if  I  come  home  and  find  it  has  n't  been  washed 
a  couple  of  times,  there  '11  be  something  doing !  Don't 
rub  soap  on  it,  kid.  Make  a  warm  lathery  suds  and 
wash  it.  And  don't  wave  it  by  the  corners  till  it  dries. 
Hang  it  up  somewhere.  You  '11  have  my  stitches  look- 
ing worse  frazzled  than  my  temper. 

"  Well,  a  merry  Christmas,  Pal-o'-mine  —  and  here  's 
hoping  you  and  mommie  and  I  will  be  eating  turkey 
together  at  the  Wolverine  when  next  Christmas  comes, 
JSummy-num!  Wouldn't  that  taste  good,  though? 


THE  BRAVE  BUCKAROO         251 

"  Now  remember  and  write  a  whole  tablet  full  to 
"  WILLIAM  LOUISA, 

"  WlLHEMINA, 

"  BILL-LOO, 

"  BlLL-THE-CoNK, 

"  BILLY  LOUISE, 

"  FLOWER  OF  THE  RANCII-OH." 

Phoebe  put  that  letter  on  the  mantel  over  the  fireplace, 
the  day  after  Christmas.  Frequently  she  felt  its  puffy 
softness  and  its  crackly  crispness  acd  wondered  dully 
what  Billy  Louise  had  sent  to  Ward. 

Billy  Louise  refrained  from  expecting  any  reply  un- 
til after  New  Year's.  Then  she  began  to  look  for  a 
letter,  and  when  the  days  passed  and  brought  her  no 
word,  her  moods  changed  oftener  than  the  weather. 

Ward's  literary  eiforts,  along  about  that  time,  con- 
sisted of  cutting  notches  in  the  window-sill  beside  his 
bunk. 

On  the  day  when  the  stage-driver  gave  Billy  Louise's 
letter  to  Phoebe,  Ward  cut  a  deeper,  wider  notch,  think- 
ing that  day  was  Christmas.  Under  the  notch  he 
scratched  a  word  with  the  point  of  his  knife.  It  had 
four  letters,  and  it  told  eloquently  of  the  state  of  mind 
he  was  in. 

It  was  the  day  after  that  when  Seabeck  and  one  of 
his  men  rode  up  the  creek  and  out  into  the  field  where 
Ward's  cattle  grazed  apathetically  on  the  little  grass 
tufts  that  stuck  up  out  of  the  snow.  Ward  was  read- 
ing, and  so  did  not  see  them  until  he  raised  himself  up 
to  make  a  cigarette  and  saw  them  going  straight  across 
the  coulee  by  the  line  fence  to  the  farther  hills.  He 


252    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

opened  the  window  and  shouted  after  them,  but  the 
wind  was  blowing  keen  from  that  direction,  and  they 
did  not  hear  him. 

Seabeck  had  been  studying  brands  and  counting,  and 
he  was  telling  Floyd  Carson  that  everything  was  straight 
as  a  string. 

"  He  must  be  out  working  this  winter.  I  should 
think  he  'd  stay  home  and  feed  these  calves.  The  cows 
are  looking  pretty  thin.  I  guess  he  is  n't  much  of  a 
stock  hand ;  these  nesters  are  n't,  as  a  general  thing, 
and  if  it 's,  as  Junkins  says,  and  he  puts  all  he  makes 
into  this  place,  he  's  likely  hard  up.  Mighty  nice  little 
ranch  he 's  got.  Well,  let 's  work  over  the  divide  and 
back  that  way.  I  did  n't  think  we  'd  find  anything 
here." 

They  turned  and  angled  up  the  steep  hillside,  and 
Ward  watched  them  glumly.  He  thought  he  knew  why 
they  were  prowling  around  the  place,  but  it  seemed  to 
him  that  they  might  have  stretched  their  curiosity  a 
little  farther  and  investigated  the  cabin.  He  did  not 
know  that  the  snow  of  a  week  ago  was  banked  over 
the  doorstep  with  a  sharp,  crusty  combing  at  the  top, 
to  prove  that  the  door  had  not  been  opened  for  some 
time.  Nor  did  he  know  that  the  two  had  ridden  past 
the  cabin  on  the  other  side  of  the  creek  and  had  seen 
how  deserted  the  place  looked ;  had  ridden  to  the  stable, 
noted  there  the  unmistakable  and  permanent  air  of 
emptiness,  and  had  gone  on. 

Floyd  Carson  alone  might  have  prowled  through  both 
buildings,  but  Seabeck  was  a  slow-going  man  of  sober 
justice.  He  would  not  invade  the  premises  of  another 
farther  than  he  thought  it  necessary.  He  had  heard 


THE  BRAVE  BUCKAROO         253 

whispers  that  the  fellow  on  Mill  Creek  might  bear  in- 
vestigation, and  he  had  investigated.  There  was  not 
a  shadow  of  evidence  that  the  Y6  cattle  had  been  got- 
ten dishonestly.  Therefore,  Seabeck  rode  away  and  did 
not  look  into  the  snow-banked  cabin,  as  another  man 
might  have  done;  and  Ward  missed  his  one  chance  of 
getting  help  from  the  outside. 

Of  course,  he  was  doing  pretty  well  as  it  was ;  but  he 
would  have  welcomed  the  chance  to  talk  to  someone. 
Taciturn  as  Ward  was  with  men,  he  had  enough  of  his 
own  company  for  once.  And  he  would  have  asked  them 
to  make  him  a  cup  of  coffee  and  warm  up  the  cabin 
once  more.  Little  comforts  of  that  sort  he  missed  ter- 
ribly. If  the  room  had  not  been  so  clammy  cold,  he 
could  have  sat  up  part  of  the  time,  now.  As  it  was, 
he  stayed  in  bed  to  keep  warm;  and  even  so  he  had 
been  compelled  to  drag  the  two  wolf-skins  off  the  floor 
and  upon  the  bed  to  keep  from  shivering  through  the 
coldest  nights  and  days. ' 

One  day  he  did  crawl  out  of  bed  and  try  to  get  over 
to  the  stove  to  start  a  fire.  But  he  was  soNweak  that 
he  gave  it  up  and  crawled  back  again,  telling  himself 
that  it  was  not  worth  the  effort. 

The  letter  with  the  silk  neckerchief  inside  gath- 
ered dust  upon  the  mantel,  down  at  the  Wolverine. 
When  the  postmark  was  more  than  two  weeks  old,  an- 
other letter  came,  and  Phoebe  laid  it  on  the  fat  one 
with  fingers  that  trembled  a  little.  Phosbe  had  a  letter 
of  her  own,  that  day*  Both  were  thin,  and  the  ad- 
dresses were  more  scrawly  than  usual.  Phoebe's  Indian 
instinct  warned  her  that  something  was  amiss. 

This  was  Ward's  letter : 


254    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

"  Oh,  God,  Ward,  mommie's  dead.  She  died  last 
night.  I  thought  she  was  asleep  till  the  nurse  came  in 
at  five  o'clock.  I  'm  all  alone  and  I  don't  know  what 
to  do.  I  wish  you  could  come,  but  if  you  don't  get 
this  right  away,  I  '11  see  you  at  the  ranch.  I  'm  com- 
ing home  as  soon  as  I  can.  Oh,  Ward,  I  hate  life  and 
God  and  everything.  BILLY  LOUISE." 

"  Please  Ward,  stay  at  the  ranch  till  I  come.  I  want 
to  see  you.  I  feel  as  if  you  're  the  only  friend  I  've 
got  left,  now  mommie  's  gone.  She  looked  so  peaceful 
when  they  took  her  away  —  and  so  strange.  I  did  n't 
belong  to  her  any  more.  I  felt  as  if  I  did  n't  know 
her  at  all  —  and  there  is  such  an  awful  gap  in  my 
life  —  maybe  you  '11  understand.  You  always  do." 

The  day  that  letter  was  written,  Ward  drew  a  plan 
of  the  house  he  meant  to  build  some  day,  with  a  wide 
porch  on  the  front,  where  a  hammock  would  swing  com- 
fortably. He  figured  upon  lumber  and  shingles  and 
rock  foundation,  and  mortar  for  a  big,  deep  fireplace. 
He  managed  to  put  in  the  whole  forenoon  planning  and 
making  estimates,  and  he  was  so  cheerful  afterwards 
that  he  whistled  and  sang,  and  later  he  tied  a  piece  of 
jerky  on  the  end  of  a  string  and  teased  a  fat  field- 
mouse,  whose  hunger  made  him  venturesome.  Ward 
would  throw  the  jerky  as  far  as  the  string  would  per- 
mit and  wait  till 'the  mouse  came  out  to  nibble  at  it; 
then  he  would  pull  the  meat  closer  and  closer  to  the 
bed  and  laugh  at  the  very  evident  perturbation  of  the 
mouse.  For  the  time  being  he  was  a  boy  indulging  his 
love  of  teasing  something. 

And   while   Ward   played   with   that   mouse,   Billy 


THE  BRAVE  BUCKAROO         255 

Louise  was  longing  for  his  comforting  presence  while 
she  faced  alone  one  of  the  bitterest  things  in  life  — 
which  is  death.  He  had  no  presentiment  of  her  need 
of  him,  which  was  just  as  well,  since  he  was  abso- 
lutely powerless  to  help  her. 


CHAPTER  XX 


BILLY  LOUISE,  having  arrived  unexpectedly  on 
the  stage,  pulled  off  her  fur-lined  mittens  and  put 
her  chilled  hands  before  the  snapping  blaze  in  the  fire- 
place. Her  eyes  were  tired  and  sunken,  and  her  mouth 
drooped  pitifully  at  the  corners,  but  aside  from  that 
she  did  not  seem  much  changed  from  the  girl  who  had 
left  the  ranch  two  months  and  more  before. 

"  I  '11  take  a  cup  of  tea,  Phoebe,  but  I  'm  not  a  bit 
hungry,"  she  said.  "  I  ate  just  before  I  left  town. 
How  have  you  been,  Phoebe  ? " 

"  We  been  fine.    We  been  so  sorry  for  you  —  " 

"  Never  mind  that  now,  Phoebe.  I  'd  rather  not  talk 
about  it.  Has  —  anybody  been  here  lately  ?  " 

"  Charlie  Fox,  he  come  las'  week  —  mebby  week  be- 
fore las'.  Marthy,  she  got  rheumatis  in  her  knee. 
Charlie,  he  say  she  been  pr*etty  bad  one  night.  I  guess 
she  's  better  now.  I  tol'  I  wash  for  her  if  he  brings 
me  clo'es,  but  he  says  he  wash  them  clo'es  hisself.  I 
guess  Charlie  pretty  good  to  that  old  lady.  He  's  awful 
p'lite,  that  feller  is." 

"  Yes,  he  is.  I  '11  go  up  and  see  her  when  I  get 
rested  a  little.  I  feel  tired  to  death,  somehow;  maybe 
it 's  the  drive.  The  road  is  terribly  rough,  and  it 
was  awful  tiresome  on  the  train.  Has  —  Ward  been 
around  lately  ?  " 


'  WE  BEEN  SORRY  FOR  YOU  "     257 

"  Ward,  he  ain't  been  here  for  long  time.  I  guess 
mebbe  it 's  been  six  weeks  I  ain't  seen  him.  Las' 
time  he  was  here  he  wrote  that  letter.  He  ain't  come 
no  more.  You  let  me  drag  this  couch  up  to  the  fire, 
and  you  lay  down  and  rest  yo'self.  I  '11  put  on  more 
wood.  Seems  like  this  is  awful  cold  winter.  We  had 
six  little  pigs  come,  and  four  of  'em  froze.  John, 
he  brung  'em  in  by  the  fire,  but  it 's  no  good ;  they  _die, 
anyway." 

Billy  Louise  dropped  apathetically  upon  the  couch 
after  Phoebe  had  helped  her  pull  off  her  coat.  She  did 
not  feel  as  though  anything  mattered  much,  but  she  must 
go  on  with  life,  no  matter  how  purposeless  it  seemed. 
To  live  awhile  and  work  and  struggle  and  know  the 
pain  of  disappointment  and  weariness,  and  then  to  die : 
she  did  not  see  what  use  there  was  in  struggling.  But 
one  had  to  go  on  just  the  same.  She  had  borrowed 
money  for  mommie's  sickness,  and  she  would  have  to 
repay  it ;  apd  it  was  all  so  purposeless ! 

"  How  are  the  cattle  wintering  ?  "  She  forced  her- 
self to  make  some  show  of  interest  in  things. 

"  The  cattle,  they  're  doing  all  right.  One  heifer, 
she  got  blackleg  and  die,  but  the  rest  they  're  all  right. 
John,  he  could  n't  find  all ;  two  or  three,  they  're  gone. 
He  says  mebby  them  rustlers  got  'em.  He  looked  good 
as  he  could." 

"  Are  —  has  there  been  any  more  trouble  about  losing 
stock  ?  "  Billy  Louise  shut  her  hand  into  a  fist,  but  she 
spoke  in  the  same  tired  tone  as  before. 

"  I  dunno.  Seabeck,  he  told  John  they  don't  catch 
nobody  yet.  That  inspector,  he  come  by  long  time  ago. 
I  guess  he  stopped  with  Seabeck.  He  ain't  come  back 


258    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

yet.  I  dunno  where  he  's  gone.  Seabeck,  he  did  n't  say 
nothing  to  John  about  him,  I  guess.  Maybe  he  went 
out  the  other  way." 

"I  —  did  you  do  what  I  told  you,  Phoebe,  about  — 
mommie's   things  ? " 

For  once  Phoebe  did  not  answer  garrulously.  "  Yes, 
I  done  it,"  she  said  softly.  "  The  boxes  is  in  the  shed 
when  you  want  'em." 

"  All  right,  Phoebe.     Is  the  tea  ready  ?  " 

While  she  sipped  creamy  tea  from  a  solid-silver 
teaspoon  which  had  been  a  part  of  mommie's  wedding- 
set,  Billy  Louise  looked  around  the  familiar  room  for 
which  she  had  hungered  so  in  those  deadly,  monotonous 
weeks  at  the  hospital.  The  fire  snapped  in  its  stone 
recess,  and  the  cheerful  warmth  of  it  comforted  her 
body  and  in  a  measure  soothed  her  spirit.  She  was 
chilled  to  the  bones  with  facing  that  bitter  east  wind 
for  hours,  and  she  had  not  seen  a  fireplace  in  all  the 
time  she  had  been  away. 

But  the  place  was  empty,  with  no  mommie  fussing 
about,  worrying  over  little  things,  gently  garrulous.  If 
mommie  had  come  back  well,  she  would  have  asked 
Phoebe  about  everything  in  the  house  and  out  of  it. 
There  would  have  been  a  housewifely  accounting  going 
on  at  this  minute.  Phoebe  would  be  apologetic  over 
those  grimy  windows,  instead  of  merely  sympathetic 
over  the  sorrow  in  the  house.  Billy  Louise  wondered 
wherein  she  lacked.  For  the  life  of  her  she  could 
not  feel  that  it  mattered  whether  the  windows  were 
clean  or  dirty ;  life  was  drab  and  cheerless  outside  them, 
anyway. 

Billy  Louise  in  the  last  few  months  had  tried  to 


"  WE  BEEN  SORRY  FOR  YOU  "     259 

picture  herself  alone,  with  mommie  gone.  Her  imagi- 
nation was  too  alive  and  saw  too  clearly  the  possibili- 
ties for  her  never  to  have  dwelt  upon  this  very  crisis 
in  her  life.  But  whenever  she  had  tried  to  think  what 
it  would  be  like,  she  had  always  pictured  Ward  beside 
her,  shielding  her  from  dreary  details  and  lightening 
her  burden  with  his  whimsical  gentleness.  She  had 
felt  sure  that  Ward  would  ride  down  every  week  for 
news  of  her,  and  she  had  expected  to  find  him  there 
waiting  for  her,  after  that  last  letter.  Whatever  could 
be  the  matter?  Had  he  left  the  country? 

Billy  Louise's  faith  had  compromised  definitely  with 
her  doubts  of  him.  Guilty  or  innocent,  she  would  be 
his  friend  always;  that  was  the  condition  her  faith 
had  laid  down  challengingly  before  her  doubts.  But 
unless  he  were  innocent  and  proved  it  to  her,  she  would 
never  marry  him,  no  matter  how  much  she  loved  him. 
That  was  the  concession  her  faith  had  made  to  her 
doubts. 

Billy  Louise  had  a  wise  little  brain,  for  all  she  ideal- 
ized life  and  her  surroundings  out  of  all  proportion 
to  reality.  She  told  herself  that  if  she  married  Ward 
with  her  doubts  alive,  her  misery  would  be  far  greater 
than  if  she  gave  him  up,  except  as  a  friend.  Of  course, 
her  ideals  stepped  in  there  with  an  impracticable  com- 
promise. She  brought  back  the  Ward  Warren  of  her 
"  pretend "  life.  She  dreamed  of  him  as  a  mutely 
adoring  friend  who  stood  and  worshiped  her  from  afar, 
and  because  of  his  sins  could  not  cross  the.  line  of 
friendship. 

If  he  were  a  rustler,  she  would  shield  him  and  save 
him,  if  that  were  possible.  He  would  love  her  always 


260    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

—  Billy  Louise  could  not  conceive  of  Ward  transferring 
his  affections  to  another  less  exacting  woman  —  and  he 
would  be  grateful  for  her  friendship.  She  could  build 
long,  lovely  scenes  where  friendliness  was  put  to  the 
front  bravely,  while  love  hid  behind  the  mask  and  only 
peeped  out  through  the  eyes  now  and  then.  She  did 
not,  of  course,  plan  all  this  in  sober  reason;  she  just 
dreamed  it  with  her  eyes  open. 

It  had  been  in  such  a  spirit  that  she  had  written  to 
Ward;  'though  he  would  undoubtedly  have  read  love 
into  the  lines  and  so  have  been  encouraged  in  the  plan- 
ning of  that  house  with  the  wide  porch  in  front !  She 
had  dreamed  all  the  way  home  of  seeing  Ward  at  the 
end  of  the  journey.  Perhaps  he  would  come  out  and 
help  her  down  from  the  stage,  when  it  stopped  at  the 
gate,  and  call  her  Bill-Loo  —  never  once  had  Ward 
spoken  her  name  as  others  spoke  it,  but  always  with 
a  twist  of  his  own  which  made  it  different,  stamped 
with  his  own  individuality  —  and  he  would  walk  be- 
side her  to  the  house  and  comfort  her  with  his  eyes, 
and  never  mention  mommie  till  she  herself  opened  the 
way  to  her  grief.  Then  he  would  call  her  Wilhemina- 
mine  in  that  kissing  way  he  had  — 

Someone  came  upon  the  doorstep  and  stood  there  for 
a  moment,  stamping  snow  off  his  feet.  Billy  Louise 
caught  her  breath  and  waited,  her  eyes  veiled  with  her 
lashes  and  shining  expectantly.  A  little  color  came 
into  her  cheeks.  Ward  had  been  delayed  somehow,  but 
he  was  ^  coming  now  because  she  needed  him  and  he 
wanted  her  — 

It  was  only  John  Pringle,  heavy-bodied,  heavy- 
minded,  who  came  in  and  squeaked  the  door  shut 


"  WE  BEEN  SORRY  FOR  YOU  '      261 

behind  him.  Billy  Louise  gave  him  a  glance  and 
dropped  her  head  back  on  the  red  cushion.  "  Hello, 
John !  "  she  greeted  tonelessly. 

John  grinned,  embarrassed  between  his  pleasure  at 
seeing  Billy  Louise  and  his  pity  for  her  trouble.  His 
white  teeth  showed  a  little  under  his  scraggy,  breath- 
frosted  mustache. 

"  Hello !  You  got  back,  hey  ?  She  's  purty  cold 
again.  Seems  like  it 's  goin'  storm  some  more."  He 
pulled  off  his  mittens  and. tugged  at  the  ice  dangling 
at  the  corners  of  his  lips.  "  You  come  on  stage,  hey  ? 
I  bet  you  freeze."  He  went  over  and  stood  with  his 
back  to  the  fire,  his  leathery  brown  hands  clasped  be- 
hind him,  his  face  still  undecided  as  to  the  most  suit- 
able emotion  to  reveal.  "  Well,  how  you  like  town, 
hey?  No  good,  I  guess.  You  got  plenty  trouble  now. 
Phoebe  and  me,  we  stick  by  you  long  as  you  want 
us  to." 

"  I  know  you  will,  John."  Billy  Louise  bit  her  lips 
against  a  sudden  impulse  to  tears.  It  was  not  Ward, 
but  the  crude  sympathy  of  this  old  halfbreed  was  more 
to  her  than  all  the  expensive  flowers  that  had  been 
stacked  upon  mommie's  coffin.  She  had  felt  terribly 
alone  in  Boise.  But  her  chilled  soul  was  beginning  to 
feel  the  warmth  of  friendship  in  these  two  half-savage 
servants.  Even  without  Ward,  her  home-coming  was 
not  absolutely  cheerless,  after  all. 

"  Well,  we  make  out  to  keep  things  going,"  John 
announced  pridefully.  "  We  got  leetle  bad  luck,  not 
much.  One  heifer,  she  die  —  blackleg.  Four  pigs, 
they  froze  —  leetle  fellers.  I  save  the  rest,  all  right. 
Ole  Mooley,  she  goin'  have  a  calf  purty  queeck  now.  I 


262    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

got  her  in  leetle  shed  by  hog-pen.  Looks  like  it  storm, 
all  right" 

"  Felt  like  it,  too."  Billy  Louise  made  an  effort 
to  get  back  into  the  old  channels  of  thought.  "  We  '11 
milk  old  Mooley,  John;  I  feel  as  if  I  could  live  on 
cream  and  milk  for  the  next  five  years.  You  ought 
to  see  the  watery  stuff  they  call  milk  in  Boise !  Star 
must  be  pretty  near  dry  now,  is  n't  she  ?  " 

"  Purty  near."  John's  voice  was  beginning  to  ooze 
the  comfort  that  warmth  was  giving  his  big  body. 
"  She  give  two  quart,  mebby.  Spot,  she  give  leetle 
more.  I  got  that  white  hog  fat.  I  kill  him  any  time 
now  you  say." 

"  If  it  does  n't  storm,  you  might  kill  him  to-morrow 
or  next  day,  John.  I  '11  take  a  roast  up  to  Marthy 
when  I  go.  I  '11  go  in  a  day  or  two."  She  glanced 
toward  the  kitchen  end  of  the  long  room.  Phoebe  was 
busy  in  the  pantry  with  the  door  shut.  "  Have  you 
seen  or  heard  anything  of  Ward  lately  ?  "  she  asked 
carelessly. 

"  No.  I  ain't  seen  Ward  for  long  time.  I  thought 
mebbe  he  be  down  long  time  ago.  He  ain't  come." 
John  shifted  a  little  farther  from  the  blaze  and  stood 
teetering  comfortably  upon  the  balls  of  his  feet,  like  a 
bear.  "  Mebbe  he  's  gone  out  other  way  to  work." 

"  Did  he  say  anything  ?  " 

"  No,  he  don't  say  nothin'  las'  time  he  come. 
That 's  —  "  John  rolled  his  black  eyes  seekingly  at 
the  farther  wall  while  he  counted  mentally  the  weeks. 
"  I  guess  that  mus'  be  fo'  or  five  weeks  now.  Charlie 
Fox,  he  come  las'  week." 

"  John,  you  better  kill  a  chicken  for  Billy  Louise. 


'  WE  BEEX  SORRY  FOR  YOU  '      263 

I  bet  she  ain't  had  no  chicken  since  she  's  gone."  Phoebe 
came  from  the  pantry  with  her  hands  all  flour.  "  You 
go  now.  That  young  speckled  rooster  be  good, 
mebby.  He's  fat.  He's  fightin'  all  the  chickens,  anj- 
way." 

"  All  right.  I  kill  him."  John  answered  with  re- 
markable docility.  Usually  he  growled  at  poor  Phoebe 
and  objected  to  everything  she  suggested. 

His  ready  compliance  touched  Billy  Louise  more 
than  anything  since  her  return.  She  felt  anew  the 
warm  comfort  of  their  sympathy.  If  only  Ward  had 
been  there  also!  She  got  up  from  the  couch  and  went 
to  the  window  where  she  could  look  across  at  the  bleak 
hilltop.  She  stood  there  for  some  minutes  looking 
out  wistfully,  hoping  that  she  would  see  him  ride  into 
view  at  the  top  of  the  steep  trail.  After  awhile  she 
went  back  and  curled  up  on  the  wide  old  couch  and 
stared  abstractedly  into  the  fire. 

John  had  gone  out  after  the  young  speckled  rooster 
that  fought  the  other  chickens  and  must  now  do  his  part 
toward  salving  the  hurt  and  cheering  the  home-coming 
of  Billy  Louise.  John  returned,  mumbled  with  Phoebe 
at  the  far  end  of  the  room,  and  went  out  again.  Phoebe 
worked  silently  and  briskly,  rattling  pans  now  and  then 
and  lifting  the  stove  lids  to  put  in  more  wood.  Billy 
Louise  heard  the  sounds  but  dimly.  The  fire  was  filled 
with  pictures;  her  thoughts  were  wandering  here  and 
there,  bridging  the  gap  between  the  past  and  the  misty 
future.  After  awhile  the  savory  odor  of  the  young 
speckled  rooster,  that  had  fought  all  the  other  chickens 
but  was  now  stewing  in  a  mottled  blue-and-white  gran- 
ite pan,  smote  her  nostrils  and  won  her  thoughts  from 


dreaming.  She  sat  up  and  pushed  back  her  hair  like 
one  just  waking  from  sleep. 

"  I  '11  set  the  table,  Phoebe,  when  you  're  ready,"  she 
said,  and  her  voice  sounded  less  strained  and  tired. 
"  That  chicken  sure  does  smell  good !  "  She  rose  and 
busied  herself  about  the  room,  setting  things  in  order 
upon  the  reading-table  and  the  shelves.  Phoebe  was 
good  as  gold,  but  her  housekeeping  was  a  trifle  sketchy. 

"  Ward,  he  borried  some  books  las'  time,"  Phoebe 
remarked,  lifting  the  lid  of  the  stew  kettle  and  letting 
out  a  cloud  of  delicious-smelling  steam.  "  I  dunno 
what  they  was.  He  said  he  'd  bring  'em  back  nex'  time 
he  come." 

"  Oh,  all  right,"  said  Billy  Louise,  and  smiled  a 
little.  Even  so  slight  a  thing  as  borrowed  books  made 
another  link  between  them.  For  a  girl  who  means 
to  be  a  mere  friend  to  a  man,  Billy  Louise  harbored 
some  rather  dangerous  emotions. 

She  picked  up  the  two  letters  she  had  written  Ward, 
brushed  off  the  dust,  and  eyed  them  hesitatingly.  It 
certainly  was  queer  that  Ward  had  not  ridden  down 
for  some  word  from  her.  She  hesitated,  then  threw 
the  thin  letter  into  the  fire.  Its  message  was  no  longer 
of  urgent,  poignant  need.  Billy  Louise  drew  a  long- 
breath  when  the  grief-laden  lines  crumbled  quickly  and 
went  flying  up  the  wide  throat  of  the  chimney.  The 
other  letter  she  pinched  between  her  thumbs  and  fin- 
gers. She  smiled  a  little  to  herself.  Ward  would  like 
to  get  that.  She  had  a  swift  vision  of  him  standing 
over  there  by  the  window  and  reading  it  with  those 
swift,  shuttling  glances,  holding  the  handkerchief 
squeezed  up  in  his  hand  the  while.  She  remembered 


'  WE  BEEN  SORRY  FOR  YOU  "     265 

how  she  had  begun  it  —  "  Brave  Buckaroo  "  —  and  her 
cheeks  turned  pink.  He  should  have  it  when  he  came. 
Something  had  kept  him  away.  He  would  come  just 
as  soon  as  he  could.  She  laid  the  letter  back  upon 
the  mantel  and  set  a  china  cow  on  it  to  keep  it  safe 
there.  Then  she  turned  brightly  and  began  to  set  the 
table  for  Phoebe  and  John  and  herself,  and  came  near 
setting  a  fourth  place  for  Ward,  she  was  so  sure  he 
would  come  as  soon  as  he  could.  Mommie  used  to 
say  that  if  you  set  a  place  for  a  person,  that  person 
would  come  and  eat  with  you,  in  spirit  if  not  in  reality. 
Phoebe  glanced  at  her  pityingly  when  she  saw  her 
hesitating,  with  the  fourth  plate  in  her  hands.  Phoebe 
thought  that  Billy  Louise  had  unconsciously  brought 
it  for  mommie.  Phoebe  did  not  know  that  love  is 
stronger  even  than  grief;  for  at  that  moment  Billy 
Louise  was  not  thinking  of  mommie  at  all. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

SEVEN    LEAN    KINE 

ND  you  looked  good,  all  up  above  here  ?  "  Billy 
Louise  held  Blue  firmly  to  a  curved-neck,  cir-~ 
cling  stand,  while  she  had  a  last  word  with  John  before 
she  went  off  on  one  of  her  long  rides. 

"  All  up  in  the  hills,  and  round  over  by  Cedar  Creek, 
and  "all  over."  John's  mittened  gesture  was  even  more 
sweeping  than  his  statement.  "  I  guess  mebby  them 
rustlers  git  'em." 

"  Well,  I  'm  going  up  to  the  Cove.  I  may  not  be 
back  before  dark,  so  don't  worry  if  I  'm .  late.  Maybe 
I  '11  look  along  the  river.  I  know  one  place  where  I 
believe  cattle  can  get  down  to  the  bottom,  if  they  're 
crazy  enough  to  try  it.  You  didn't  look  there,  did 
you?" 

"  No,  I  never  looked  down  there.  I  know  they  can't 
git  down  nohow." 

"  Well,  all  right ;  maybe  they  can't."  Billy  Louise 
slackened  the  reins,  and  Blue  went  off  with  short, 
stiff-legged  jumps.  It  had  been  a  long  time  since  he 
had  felt  the  weight  of  his  lady,  and  his  mood  now 
was  exuberant,  especially  so,  since  the  morning  was 
clear,  with  a  nip  of  frost  to  tingle  the  skin  and  the 
glow  of  the  sun  to  promise  falsely  the  nearness  of 
spring.  The  hill  trail  steadied  him  a  little,  though 


SEVEN  LEAN  KINE  267 

he  went  up  the  steepest  pitch  with  rabbit- jumps  and 
teetered  on  his  toes  the  rest  of  the  way. 

Billy  Louise  laughed  a  little,  leaned,  and  grabbed  a 
handful  of  slatey  mane.  "  Oh,  you  Blue-dog!"  she 
said,  for  that  was  his  full  name.  "  Life  is  livable, 
after  all,  as  long  as  a  fellow  has  got  you  and  can 
ride.  You  good-for-nothing  old  ten-dollar  hoss !  I  — 
wonder  would  it  be  wicked  to  sing?  What  do  you 
think,  Blue  ?  You  'd  sing,  I  know,  at  the  top  of  your 
voice,  if  you  could.  Say,  Blue!  Don't  you  wish  you 
were  a  donkey,  so  you  could  stick  out  your  neck  and 
go  Fee-ee-haw!  Fee-ee-haw?  Try  it  once.  I  believe 
you  could.  It 's  that  or  a  run,  one  or  the  other.  You  '11 
bust,  if  you  don't  do  something.  I  know  you !  " 

At  last  on  the  high  level,  seeing  Blue  could  not  bray 
his  joy  to  the  world,  Billy  Louise  let  him  go.  She 
needed  some  outlet,  herself,  after  those  horrible,  dull 
weeks  weighted  with  tragedy.  She  had  been  raised  on 
horseback,  almost;  and  for  two  terrible  months  she 
had  not  been  in  the  saddle.  And  there  is  nothing 
like  the  air  of  the  Idaho  hills  to  stir  one's  blood  and 
send  it  singing. 

Through  the  sagebrush  and  rocks,  weaving  in  and 
out,  slacking  speed  a  little  while  he  went  down  into 
deep  gullies,  thundering  up  the  other  side,  and  racing 
away  over  the  level  again,  went  Blue.  And  with  him, 
laughing,  tingling  with  new  life,  growing  pinker- 
cheeked  every  minute,  went  Billy  Louise.  Her  mother's 
death  did  not  oppress  her  then.  She  thought  of  her 
as  she  raced,  but  she  thought  of  her  with  a  little,  tender 
smile.  Her  mother  was  resting  peacefully,  and  there 


268    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

was  no  more  pain  or  worry  for  the  little,  pale,  frail 
woman  who  had  lived  her  life  and  gone  her  way. 

"  Dear  old  mommie !  "  said  Billy  Louise  under  her 
breath.  "  Your  kid  is  almost  as  happy  as  you  are, 
right  now.  Don't  be  shocked,  there  's  a  dear,  or  think 
I  'm  going  to  break  my  neck.  Blue  and  I  have  just 
simply  got  to  work  off  steam.  You,  Blue !  "  She  leaned 
another  inch  forward. 

Blue  threw  up  his  head,  lifted  his  heels,  and  ran 
like  a  scared  jackrabbit  over  the  uneven  ground.  They 
were  not  keeping  to  the  trail  at  all;  trails  were  too 
tame  for  them  in  that  mood.  They  ran  along  the  rim- 
rock  at  the  last,  where  Billy  Louise  could  glance  down, 
now  and  then,  at  the  river  sliding  like  a  bright-blue  rib- 
bon with  icy  edges  through  the  gray,  snow-spotted  hills. 

"  Hold  on,  Blue !  "  Billy  Louise  pulled  up  on  the 
reins.  "  Quit  it,  you  old  devil !  A  mile  ought  to 
be  enough  for  once,  I  should  think.  There  's  cattle 
down  there  in  that  bottom,  sure  as  you  live.  And  we, 
my  dear  sir,  are  going  down  there  and  take  a  look  at 
them."  She  managed  to  pull  Blue  down  to  stiff-legged 
jumps  and  then  to  a  walk.  Finally  she  stopped  him, 
so  that  she  could  the  better  take  in  her  surroundings 
and  the  possibilities  of  getting  down. 

In  the  country  it  is  as  in  the  cities.  One  forms 
habits  of  journeying.  One  becomes  perfectly  familiar 
with  every  hill  and  every  little  hollow  in  certain  direc- 
tions, while  some  other,  closer  part  remains  practically 
unexplored.  Billy  Louise  had  always  loved  the  Wol- 
verine canyon,  and  its  brother,  Jones  canyon,  which 
branched  off  from  the  first.  As  a  child  she  had  ex- 
plored every  foot  of  both,  and  had  ridden  the  hills 


SEVEN  LEAN  KINE  269 

beyond.  As  a  young  woman  she  had  kept  to  the  old 
playground.  Her  cattle  ranged  at  the  head  of  the 
canyons. 

The  river  bottoms  came  as  near  being  unknown  ter- 
ritory as  she  could  have  found  within  forty  miles  of 
her  home.  For  one  thing,  the  river  bottom  was  nar- 
row, except  where  was  the  Cove,  and  pinched  in  places 
till  there  seemed  no  way  of  passing  from  one  to  .an- 
other. Little  pockets  there  were,  tucked  away  under  the 
rocky  bluff  with  its  collar  of  "  rim-rock  "  above.  One 
might  climb  down  afoot,  but  Billy  Louise  was  true  to 
her  range  breeding;  she  never  went  anywhere  afoot  if 
she  could  possibly  get  there  on  a  horse.  And  down  there 
by  the  river  she  never  had  happened  to  find  it  neces- 
sary to  go,  either  afoot  or  a-horseback.  Still,  if  cattle 
could  get  down  there  — 

"  I  guess  we  '11  have  to  ride  back  a  way,"  she  said, 
after  a  brief  inspection,  during*  which  Blue  stood  so 
close  to  the  rim  that  Billy  Louise  must  have  had  a  clear 
head  to  feel  no  tremor  of  nerves  or  dizziness. 

She  turned  and  rode  slowly  back  along  the  edge, 
looking  for  the  place  where  she  'believed  cattle  could 
get  down  if  they  were  crazy  enough  to  try. 

"  Don't  look  very  encouraging,  does  it,  Blue  ?  "  Billy 
Louise  stared  doubtfully  at  the  place,  leaning  and  peer- 
ing over  the  rim.  "  What  d  'ye  think  ?  Reckon  we  can 
make  it  ? " 

Blue  had  caught  sight  of  the  moving  specks  far  down 
next  the  river  and  up  the  stream  half  a  mile  or  more. 
He  was  a  cow-horse  to  the  bone.  He  knew  those  far- 
off  specks  for  cattle,  and  he  knew  that  his  lady  would 
like  a  closer  look  at  them.  That 's  what  cattle  were 


270    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

made  for:  to  haze  out  of  brush  and  rocks  and  gullies 
and  drive  somewhere.  So  far  as  Blue  knew,  cattle  were 
a  game.  You  hunted  them  out  of  ungodly  places,  and 
the  game  was  to  make  them  go  somewhere  else  against 
their  wishes.  He  prided  himself  on  being  able  to  play 
that  game,  no  matter  what  were  the  odds  against  him. 

Now  he  tilted  his  head  a  little  and  looked  down  at 
the  bluff  beneath  him.  The  game  was  beginning.  He 
must  get  down  that  bluff  and  overtake  those  specks  and 
drive  them  somewhere.  He  glanced  up  and  down  the 
bluff  to  see  if  a  better  trail  offered.  Billy  Louise 
laughed  understandingly. 

"  It 's  this  or  nothing,  Blue.  Looks  pretty  fierce,  all 
right,  does  n't  it  ?  Of  course,  if  you  're  going  to  make 
a  perfect  lady  get  off  and  walk  —  " 

Blue  snuffed  at  the  ledge  with  his  neck  craned.  The 
rim-rock  had  crumbled  and  sunk  low  into  the  bluff, 
like  a  too  rich  pie-crust  when  the  oven  is  not  quite  hot 
enough.  From  a  ten-  or  fifteen-foot  wall  it  shrunk 
here  to  a  three-foot  ledge.  And  below  the  rocks  and 
bowlders  were  not  actually  piled  on  top  of  one  another ; 
there  were  clear  spaces  where  a  wary,  wise,  old  cow- 
horse  might  possibly  pick  his  way. 

Blue  chose  his  trail  and  crumpled  at  the  knees  with 
his  hoofs  on  the  very  edge  of  the  ledge;  went  down 
with  a  cat-jump  and  landed  with  all  four  feet  planted 
close  together.  He  had  no  mind  to  go  on  sliding  in 
spite  of  himself,  and  the  bluff  was  certainly  steep 
enough  to  excuse  a  bungle. 

"  So  far  so  good."  Billy  Louise  glanced  ruefully 
back  at  the  ledge.  "  We  're  down ;  but  how  the  deuce 
do  you  reckon  we  '11  get  up  again  ?  " 


SEVEN  LEAN  KINE  271 

Blue  was  not  worrying  about  that  part.  He  went 
on,  picking  his  way  carefully  among  the  bowlders,  with 
his  nose  close  to  earth,  setting  his  hindlegs  stiffly  and 
tobogganing  down  loose,  shale  slopes.  Billy  Louise 
sat  easily  in  the  saddle  and  enjoyed  it  all.  She  was 
making  up  in  big  doses  for  the  drab  dullness  of  those 
hospital  weeks.  She  ought  to  walk  down  the  bluff, 
for  this  was  dangerous  play;  but  she  craved  danger  ^as 
an  antidote  to  that  shut-in  life  of  petty  rules  and  regu- 
lations. 

It  was  with  a  distinct  air  of  triumph  that  Blue 
reached  the  bottom,  even  though  he  slid  the  last  forty 
feet  on  his  haunches  and  landed  belly-deep  in  a  soft 
snow-bank.  It  was  with  triumph  to  match  his  perky 
ears  that  Billy  Louise  leaned  and  slapped  him  on  the 
neck.  "  "We  made  it !  "  she  cried,  "  and  I  did  n't  have 
to  walk  a  step,  did  I,  Blue  ?  You  're  there  with  the 
goods,  all  right !  " 

Blue  scrambled  out  of  the  bank  to  firm  footing  on 
the  ripened  grass  of  the  bottom,  and  with  a  toss  of  his 
head  set  off  in  a  swinging  lope,  swerving  now  and 
then  to  avoid  a  badger  hole  or  a  half-sunken  rock.  They 
had  done  something  new,  those  two;  they  had  reached 
a  place  where  neither  had  ever  been  before,  and  Blue 
acted  as  if  he  knew  it  and  gloried  in  the  escapade  quite 
as  much  as  did  his  lady. 

The  cattle  spied  them  and  went  trotting  away  up  the 
river,  and  Blue  quickened  his  stride  a  little  and  fol- 
lowed after.  Billy  Louise  left  the  reins  loose  upon  his 
neck.  Blue  could  handle  cattle  alone  quite  as  skillfully 
as  with  a  rider,  if  he  chose. 

The  cattle  dodged  into  a  fringe  of  bushes  close  to 


272    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

the  river  and  disappeared,  which  was  queer,  since  the 
bluff  curved  in  close  to  the  bank  at  that  point.  Blue 
pricked  up  his  ears  and  went  clattering  after,  slowed 
a  little  at  the  willow-fringe,  stuck  his  nose  straight 
out  before  him,  and  went  in  confidently.  The  cattle 
were  just  ahead.  He  could  smell  them,  and  his  listen- 
ing ears  caught  their  heavy  breathing.  It  was  very 
rocky  there  in  the  willows,  and  he  must  pick  his  way 
with  much  care.  But  when  he  crashed  through  on  the 
far  side,  and  Billy  Louise  straightened  from  leaning 
low  along  his  neck  to  avoid  the  stinging  branches,  the 
cattle  gave  a  snort  and  went  lumbering  away,  still  fol- 
lowing the  river. 

This  was  another  small,  grassy  bottom.  Blue  went 
galloping  after  them,  indignant  that  they  should  even 
attempt  to  elude  him.  They  were  making  for  the  head  of 
that  pocket,  and  Billy  Louise  twitched  the  reins  sugges- 
tively. Blue  obeyed  the  hint,  which  proved  that  the  hu- 
man brain  is  greater  in  strategy  than  is  brute  instinct,  and 
raced  in  an  angle  from  the  fleeing  cattle.  Billy  Louise 
leaned  and  called  to  him  sharply  for  more  speed ;  called 
for  it  and  got  it.  They  jumped  a  washout  that  the 
cattle  went  into  and  out  of  with  great  lunges,  farther 
down  toward  its  mouth.  They  gained  a  little  there, 
and  by  a  burst  of  hard  running  they  gained  more  on 
the  level  beyond. 

The  cattle  began  to  swerve  away  from  them,  closer 
to  the  river.  Blue  pulled  ahead  a  little,  swerving  also, 
and  as  Billy  Louise  tightened  the  reins,  he  slowed  and 
circled  them  craftily  until  they  huddled  on  the  steep 
bank,  uncertain  which  way  to  go.  Billy  Louise  pulled 
Blue  down  to  a  walk  as  she  drew  near  and  eyed  the 


SEVEN  LEAN  KINE  273 

cattle  sharply.  They  did  not  look  like  any  of  hers, 
after  all.  There  were  five  dry  cows  and  two  steers. 

One  of  the  steers  stood  broadside  to  Billy  Louise. 
The  brand  stared  out  from  his  dingy  red  side,  the 
most  conspicuous  thing  about  him.  Billy  Louise  caught 
her  breath.  There  was  no  faintest  line  that  failed  to 
drive  its  message  into  her  range-trained  brain.  She 
stared  and  stared.  Blue  looked  around  at  her  inquir- 
ingly, reproachfully.  Billy  Louise  sent  him  slowly  for- 
ward and  stirred  up  the  huddled  little  bunch.  She  read 
the  brand  on  each  one;  read  the  story  they  shouted  at 
her,  of  bungling  theft.  She  could  not  believe  it.  Yet 
she  did  believe  it,  and  she  went  hot  with  anger  and  dis- 
appointment and  contempt.  She  sat  and  thought  for 
a  minute  or  two,  scowling  at  the  cattle,  while  she 
decided  what  to  do. 

Finally  she  swung  Blue  on  the  down-stream  side  and 
shouted  the  range  cattle-cry.  The  animals  turned  awk- 
wardly and  went  upstream,  as  they  had  been  going 
before  Billy  Louise  stopped  them.  Blue  followed  watch- 
fully after,  content  with  the  game  he  was  playing. 
Where  the  bluffs  drew  close  again  to  the  river,  the 
cattle  climbed  to  a  narrow,  shelving  trail  through  the 
rocks  and  went  on  in  single  file,  picking  their  way 
carefully  along  the  bluff.  Below  them  it  fell  sheer  to 
the  river;  above  them  it  rose  steeply,  a  blackened  jum- 
ble, save  where  the  snow  of  the  last  storm  lay  drifted. 

Billy  Louise  had  never  known  there  was  a  trail  up 
this  gorge.  She  eyed  it  critically  and  saw  where  bowl- 
ders had  been  moved  here  and  there  to  make  its  .passage 
possible.  Her  lips  were  set  close  together  and  they 
still  bore  the  imprint  of  her  contempt. 


274    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

She  thought  of  Ward.  Mentally  she  abased  herself 
before  him  because  of  her  doubts.  How  had  she  dared 
think  him  a  thief?  Her  brave  buckaroo!  And  she 
had  dared  think  he  would  steal  cattle!  Her  very  re- 
morse was  a  whip  to  lash  her  anger  against  the  guilty. 
She  hurried  the  cattle  along  the  dangerous  trail,  im- 
patient of  their  cautious  pace. 

When  finally  they  clattered  down  to  the  level  again, 
it  was  to  plunge  into  willow  thickets  whose  branches 
reached  out  to  sweep  her  from  the  saddle.  Blue  went 
carefully,  stopping  now  and  then  at  a  word  from  his 
lady,  to  wait  while  she  put  a  larger,  more  stubborn 
branch  out  of  her  way.  She  could  not  see  just  where 
she  was  going,  but  she  knew  that  she  was  close  upon 
the  cattle,  and  that  they  seemed  familiar  with  the  trail. 
Jsow  and  then  she  caught  sight  of  a  rough-haired  rump 
and  switching  tail  in  the  thicket  before  her.  Then 
the  whip-like  branches  would  swing  close,  and  she  could 
see  nothing  but  their  gray  tangle  reaching  high  above 
her  head.  She  could  hear  the  crackling  progress  of  the 
cattle  close  ahead,  and  the  gurgling  clamor  of  the  river 
farther  away  to  her  right.  But  she  could  not  see  the 
bluff  for  the  close-standing  willows,  and  she  did  not 
know  whether  it  was  near  or  far  to  its  encircling  wall. 

Then,  just  as  she  was  beginning  to  think  the  willows 
would  never  end,  she  came  quite  suddenly  out  into  the 
open,  and  Blue  lifted  himself  and  jumped  a  dry  ditch. 
The  cattle  were  before  her,  shambling  along  the  fenced 
border  of  a  meadow. 


CHAPTEK  XXII 

THB   BILLY   OF   HEB 

SINCE  she  had  closed  up  on  the  cattle  and  had  read 
on  their  sides  the  shameful  story  of  theft,  Billy 
Louise  had  known  that  she  would  eventually  come  out 
at  the  lower  end  of  the  Cove ;  and  that  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  the  Cove  was  not  supposed  to  have  any  egress 
save  through  the  gorge.  What  surprised  her  was  the 
short  distance;  she  had  not  realized  that  the  bluff  and 
the  upland  formed  a  wide  curve,  and  that  she  had  cut 
the  distance  almost  in  half  by  riding  next  the  river. 

She  seemed  in  no  doubt  as  to  what  she  would  do  when 
she  arrived.  Billy  Louise  was  not  much  given  to  in- 
decision at  any  time.  She  drove  the  cattle  into  the 
corral  farthest  from  the  house,  rode  on  to  the  stable, 
and  stopped  Blue  with  his  nose  against  the  fence  there 
and  with  his  reins  dragging.  Then,  tight-lipped  still, 
she  walked  determinedly  along  the  path  to  the  gate  that 
led  through  the  berry-jungle  to  the  cabin. 

She  opened  the  gate  and  stepped  through,  closing 
it  after  her.  She  had  not  gone  twenty  feet  when  there 
was  a  rush  from  the  nearest  thicket,  and  Surbus,  his 
hair  ruffed  out  along  his  neck,  growled  and  made  a 
leap  at  her  with  bared  fangs. 

Billy  Louise  had  forgotten  about  Surbus.  She 
jumped  back,  startled,  and  the  dog  missed  landing. 


276    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

When  he  sprang  again  he  met  a  thirty-eight  calibre 
bullet  from  Billy  Louise's  gun  and  dropped  back.  It 
had  been  a  snap  shot,  without  any  particular  aiming; 
Billy  Louise  retreated  a  few  steps  farther,  watching 
the  dog  suspiciously.  He  gathered  himself  slowly  and 
prepared  to  spring  at  her  again.  This  time  Billy  Louise, 
being  on  the  watch  for  such  a  move,  aimed  carefully 
before  she  fired.  Surbus  dropped  again,  limply  —  a 
good  dog  forever  more. 

Billy  Louise  heard  a  shrill  whistle  and  the  sound  of 
feet  running.  She  waited,  gun  in  hand,  ready  for  what- 
ever might  come. 

"  Hey !  Charlie !  Somebody  's  come ;  the  bell,  she 
don't  reeng."  Peter  Howling  Dog,  a  pistol  in  his  hand, 
came  running  down  the  path  from  the  cabin.  He  saw 
Billy  Louise  and  stopped  abruptly,  his  mouth  half 
open. 

From  a  shed  near  the  stable  came  Charlie,  also  run- 
ning. Billy  Louise  waited  beside  the  gate.  He  did 
not  see  her  until  he  was  close,  for  a  tangled  gooseberry 
bush  stood  between  them. 

"  What  was  it,  Peter  ?  Somebody  in  the  Cove  ?  Or 
was  it  you  —  " 

"  ~No,  it  was  n't  Peter ;  it  was  me."  Billy  Louise 
informed  him  calmly  and  ungrammatically.  "  I  shot 
Surbus,  that 's  all." 

"  Oh !  Why,  Miss  Louise,  you  nearly  gave  me  heart 
failure !  How  are  you  ?  I  thought  —  " 

"  You  thought  somebody  had  gotten  into  the  Cove 
without  your  knowing  it.  Well,  someone  did.  I  rode 
up  from  below,  along  the  river." 

"  Oh  —  er  —  did  you  ?    Pretty  rough  going,  was  n't 


THE  BILLY  OF  HER  277 

it?  I  didn't  think  it  could  be  done.  Come  in;  Aunt 
Martha  will  be  —  " 

"  I  don't  think  she  '11  be  overjoyed  to  see  me."  Billy 
Louise  stood  still  beside  the  gooseberry  bush,  and  she 
had  forgotten  to  put  away  her  gun.  "  I  drove  up  those 
cattle  you  had  down  below.  You  're  awfully  care- 
less, Charlie !  I  should  think  Peter  or  Marthy  would 
have  told  you  better.  When  a  man  steals  cattle  by 
working  over  the  brands,  it 's  very  bad  form  to  keep 
them  right  on  his  ranch  in  plain  sight.  It  —  is  n't  done 
by  the  best  people,  you  know."  Her  voice  stung  with 
the  contempt  she  managed  to  put  into  it.  And  though 
she  smiled,  it  was  such  a  smile  as  one  seldom  saw 
upon  the  face  of  Billy  Louise. 

"What's  all  this?  Worked  brands!  Why,  Miss 
Louise,  I  —  I  would  n't  know  how  to  —  " 

"  I  know.  You  did  an  awful  punk  job.  A  person 
could  tell  in  the  dark  it  was  the  work  of  a  greenhorn. 
Why  did  n't  you  let  Peter  do  it,  or  Marthy  ?  You  could 
have  done  a  better  job  than  that,  could  n't  you, 
Marthy?" 

Poor  old  Marthy,  with  her  rheumatic  knees  and  a 
gray  hardness  in  her  leathery  face,  had  come  down 
the  path  and  stood  squarely  before  Billy  Louise,  her 
hands  knuckling  her  flabby  hips,  her  hair  blowing  in 
gray,  straggling  wisps  about  her  bullet  head. 

"  Better  than  what  ?  Come  in,  Billy  Louise.  I  'm 
right  glad  to  see  ye  back  and  lookin'  so  well,  even  if 
yuh  do  'pear  to  be  in  one  of  your  tantrums.  How  's 
yer  maw  ? " 

Billy  Louise  gasped  and  went  white.  "  Mommie  's 
dead,"  she  said.  "  She  died  the  ninth."  She  drew  anr 


278 

other  gasping  breath,  pulled  herself  together,  and  went 
on  before  the  others  could  begin  the  set  speeches  of 
sympathy  which  the  announcement  seemed  to  demand. 

"  Never  mind  about  that,  now.  I  'm  talking  about 
those  Seabeck  cattle  you  folks  stole.  I  was  telling 
Charlie  how  horribly  careless  he  is,  Marthy.  Did  you 
know  he  let  them  drift  down  the  river?  And  a  blind 
man  could  tell  a  mile  off  the  brands  have  been  worked !  " 
Billy  Louise's  tone  was  positively  venomous  in  its  con- 
tempt. "  Why  did  n't  you  make  Charlie  practise  on  a 
cowhide  for  awhile  first  ?  "  she  asked  Marthy  cuttingly. 

Marthy  ignored  the  sarcasm.  Perhaps  it  did  not 
penetrate  her  stolid  mind  at  all.  "  Charlie  never 
worked  any  brands,  Billy  Louise,"  she  stated  with  her 
glum  directness. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  his  pardon,  I  Jm  sure !    Did  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  never  done  such  a  thing,  neither.  I  don't 
know  what  you  're  talkin'  about." 

"Well,  who  did,  then?"  Billy  Louise  faced  the 
old  woman  pitilessly. 

"  I  d'no."  Marthy  lifted  her  hand  and  made  a  futile 
effort  to  tuck  in  a  few  of  the  longest  wisps  of  hair. 

"  Well,  of  all  the  —  "  The  stern  gray  eyes  of  Billy 
Louise  flew  wide  open  at  the  effrontery  of  the  words. 
If  they  expected  her  to  believe  that ! 

"  That 's  it,  Miss  Louise.  That 's  the  point  we  'd 
like  to  settle,  ourselves.  I  know  it  sounds  outrageous, 
but  it 's  a  fact.  Peter  and  I  found  those  cattle  up  in 
the  hills,  with  our  brand  worked  over  the  V.  On  my 
word  of  honor,  not  one  of  us  knows  who  did  it." 

"  But  you  've  got  them  down  here  —  " 

"Well  — '      Charlie  threw  out   a  hand  helplessly. 


THE  BILLY  OF  HER  279 

His  eyes  met  hers  with  appealing  frankness.  "  We 
could  n't  rub  out  the  brands ;  what  else  could  we  do  ? 
I  figured  that  somebody  else  would  see  them  if  we  left 
them  out  in  the  hills,  and  it  might  be  rather  hard  to 
convince  a  man;  you  see,  we  can't  even  convince  you! 
But,  so  help  me,  not  one  of  us  branded  those  cattle,  Miss 
Louise.  I  believe  that  whoever  has  been  rustling  stock 
around  here  deliberately  tried  to  fix  evidence  against 
us.  I  'm  a  stranger  in  the  country,  and  I  don't  know 
the  game  very  well ;  I  'm  an  easy  mark !  " 

"  Yes,  you  're  that,  all  right  enough !  "  Billy  Louise 
spoke  with  blunt  disfavor,  but  her  contemptuous  cer- 
tainty of  his  guilt  was  plainly  wavering.  "  To  go  and 
bring  stolen  cattle  right  down  here  —  " 

"  It  seemed  to  me  they  'd  be  safer  here  than  any- 
where else,"  Charlie  observed  naively.  "  Nobody  ever 
comes  down  here,  unknown  to  us.  I  had  it  sized  up 
that  the  fellow  who  worked  those  brands  would  never 
dream  we  'd  bring  the  stock  right  into  the  Cove.  Why, 
Miss  Louise,  even  I  would  know  better  than  to  put  our 
brand  on  top  of  Seabeck's  and  expect  it  to  pass  in- 
spection. If  I  wanted  to  steal  cattle,  I  would  n't  go  at 
it  that  way !  " 

Billy  Louise  glanced  uncertainly  at  him  and  then  at 
Marthy,  facing  her  grimly.  She  did  not  know  what 
to  think,  and  she  showed  it. 

"  How  do  you  mean  —  the  real  rustlers  ?  "  She  be- 
gan hesitatingly;  and  hesitation  was  not  by  any  means 
a  mental  habit  with  Billy  Louise. 

"  I  mean  just  what  I  said."  Charlie's  manner  was 
becoming  more  natural,  more  confident.  "  I  've  been 
riding  through  the  hills  a  good  deal,  and  I  've  seen  a 


280    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

few  things.  And  I  've  an  idea  the  fellow  got  a  little 
uneasy."  He  saw  her  wince  a  little  at  the  word  "  fel- 
low," and  he  went  on,  with  an  impulsive  burst  of  con- 
fidence. "  Miss  Louise,  have  you  ever,  in  your  riding 
around  up  above  Jones  Canyon,  in  all  those  deep  little 
gulches,  have  you  ever  seen  anything  of  a  —  corral,  up 
there?" 

Billy  Louise  held  herself  rigidly  from  starting  at  this. 
She  bit  her  lips  so  that  it  hurt.  "  Whereabouts  is  it  ?  " 
she  asked,  without  looking  at  him.  And  then :  "  I 
thought  you  would  go  to  any  length  before  you  would 
accuse  anybody." 

"  I  would.  But  when  they  deliberately  try  to  hand 
me  the  blame  —  and  I  'm  not  accusing  anybody  —  any- 
body in  particular,  am  I?  The  corral  is  at  the  head 
of  a  steep  little  canyon  or  gulch,  back  in  the  hills  where 
all  these  bigger  canyons  head.  Some  time  when  you  're 
riding  up  that  way,  you  keep  an  eye  out  for  it.  That," 
he  added  grimly,  "  is  where  Peter  and  I  ran  across 
these  cattle ;  right  near  that  corral." 

The  heart  of  Billy  Louise  went  heavy  in  her  chest. 
Was  it  possible?  Doubts  are  harder  to  kill  than  cats 
or  snakes.  You  think  they  're  done  for,  and  here  they 
come  again,  crowding  close  so  that  one  can  see  noth- 
ing else. 

"  Have  you  any  idea  at  all,  who  —  it  is  ?  "  She 
forced  the  words  out  of  her  dry  throat.  She  lifted  her 
head  defiantly  and  looked  at  him  full,  trying  to  read 
the  truth  from  his  eyes  and  his  mouth. 

Charlie  Fox  met  her  look,  and  in  his  eyes  she  read 
pity  —  yes,  pity  for  her.  "  If  I  have,"  he  said,  with 
an  air  of  gently  deliberate  evasion,  "  I  '11  wait  till  I 


THE  BILLY  OF  HER  281 

am  dead  sure  before  I  name  the  man.  I  'm  not  at  all 
sure  I  'd  do  it  even  then,  Miss  Louise ;  not  unless  I 
was  forced  to  do  it  in  self-defense.  That 's  one  reason 
why  I  brought  the  cattle  down  here.  I  did  n't  want 
to  be  placed  in  a  position  where  I  should  be  compelled 
to  fight  back." 

Billy  Louise  ran  her  gloved  fingers,  down  the  barrel 
of  her  gun,  and  stuck  the  weapon  back  in  its  holster. 
"  I  killed  Surbus,  Marthy,"  she  said  dully.  "  I  had 
to.  He  came  at  me." 

Marthy  turned  heavily  toward  the  spot  which  Billy 
Louise  indicated  with  her  downward  glance.  She  had 
not  seen  the  dog  lying  there  half  hidden  by  a  berry 
bush.  Marthy  gave  a  grunt  of  dismay  and  went  over 
to  where  Surbus  lay  huddled.  Her  hard  old  face 
worked  with  emotion. 

"  You  shot  him,  did  yuh  ? "  Marthy's  voice  was 
harsh  with  reproach.  "  What  did  he  do  to  yuh,  that 
you  had  to  go  t'  work  and  shoot  him  ?  He  warn't  your 
dog,  he  was  mine !  I  must  say  you  're  gittin'  high-an'- 
mighty,  Billy  Louise,  comin'  here  shootin'  my  dog  and 
accusin'  Charlie  and  me  to  our  faces  uh  bein'  thieves. 
And  your  maw  not  cold  in  'er  grave  y.it!  I  must  say 
you  're  gitting  too  high-an'-mighty  fer  old  Marthy.  And 
me  payin'  fer  your  schoolin'  and  never  gitting  so  much 
as  a  thankye  fer  it,  and  scrimpin'  and  savin'  to  make 
a  lady  out  of  yuh.  And  here  you  come  in  a  tantrum, 
callin'  me  a  thief  right  in  my  face!  You  knowed  all 
along  who  worked  them  brands.  If  yuh  don't,  I  kin 
mighty  quick  tell  ye  —  " 

"  Now,  Aunt  Martha,  never  mind  scolding  Billy 
Louise;  you  know  you  think  as  much  of  her  as  you  do 


282    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

of  me,  and  that 's  throwing  a  big  bouquet  at  myself !  " 
Charlie  went  up  and  laid  his  arm  caressingly  over  th« 
old  woman's  shoulder.  "  You  don't  want  to  let  this 
upset  you,  Aunt  Martha.  Surbus  was  a  mean-tempered 
brute  with  strangers.  You  know  that.  I  don't  blame 
Miss  Louise  in  the  least.  She  was  frightened  when 
he  came  at  her,  and  she  had  n't  presence  of  mind 
enough  to  see  he  was  only  bluffing  and  would  n't 
hurt  —  " 

"  Bluffing,  was  he  ?  "  Billy  Louise  roused  herself 
to  meet  this  covert  attack  upon  her  courage.  "  So  are 
you  bluffing.  And  so  is  Marthy,  when  she  says  she 
paid  for  my  —  "  She  stopped,  confronting  an  accus- 
ing memory  of  mommie's  mysterious  silence  about  the 
school  money,  and  her  own  passing  curiosity  which  had 
never  been  satisfied.  "  Even  if  she  did,  I  don't  know 
why  she  need  throw  it  up  to  me  now.  I  never  asked 
her  for  money.  Nobody  ever  did.  And  that  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  Surbus,  anyway.  He  's  a  nasty,  mean 
brute  that  ought  to  have  been  killed  long  ago.  I  'm 
not  a  bit  sorry.  I  'm  glad  I  did  kill  him." 
"  Yes,  I  know  yuh  be.  You  're  hard  as  —  " 
"  I  would  n't.  talk  about  hardness,  if  I  were  you, 
Marthy !  What  are  you,  right  now  —  and  always  ? 
Was  I  to  blame  for  thinking  those  cattle  had  been 
stolen  ?  They  're  in  the  Cove,  with  your  brand  on. 
And  unless  you  pay  Seabeck  for  them,  you  're  stealing 
them  if  you  keep  them.  It  doesn't  matter  who  put 
the  brand  on ;  you  're  keeping  the  cattle.  What  do  you 
call  that,  I  'd  like  to  know  ?  They  're  down  here  in 
the  big  corral  now.  If  you  mean  to  do  what 's  square, 
you  '11  take  them  up  to  Seabeck's  and  explain  —  " 


THE  BILLY  OF  HER  283 

"  Explain  who  it  was  ran  our  brand  on  ?  "  Charlie's 
voice  was  silk  over  iron.  "  I  'm  afraid  if  I  were  forced 
into  explanations,  I  'd  have  to  tell  all  I  know,  Miss 
Louise.  Do  you  advise  that  —  really  ?  " 

"  I  don't  advise  anything."  Baffled  and  angry  and 
hurt  to  the  very  soul  of  her,  Billy  Louise  opened  the 
gate  and  went  out.  "  It  strikes  me  you  Cove  folks 
are  not  wanting  advice  these  days,  or  needing  it.  If 
you  know  anything  to  tell,  for  heaven's  sake  don't  hold 
back  on  my  account !  It 's  nothing  to  me,  one  way 
or  the  other.  I  'm  no  rustler,  and  no  friend  of  rustlers, 
if  that 's  what  you  're  hinting  at."  She  left  them  with 
a  proud  lift  to  her  chin  and  a  very  straight  back,  went 
to  Blue,  and  mounted  him  mechanically.  Billy  Louise 
was  "  seeing  red  "  just  then.  She  rode  back  past  the 
gate,  the  three  were  still  standing  there  close  together, 
talking.  Billy  Louise  swung  round  in  the  saddle  so 
that  she  faced  them. 

"  You  need  n't  worry,  Marthy,  about  that  school- 
money,"  she  called  out  angrily.  "  I  '11  take  your  word 
for  it  and  pay  you  back  every  cent,  with  legal  rate  of 
interest.  And  I  'm  darned  glad  I  did  shoot  Surbus !  " 

"  Oh,  say,  Miss  Louise !  "  Charlie  called  placatingly. 
"  Please  don't  go  away  feeling  —  " 

"  You  go  to  the  devil !  "   Billy  Louise  flung  back 

at  him  and  touched  Blue  with  her  heel.     "  I  hope  that 

shocked  some  of  the  politeness  out  of  him,  anyway," 

she  added  grimly  to  herself.     "  Oh,  I  hate  everything 

-  Ward  and  God  and  all !    I  hate  life  —  I  hate  it !  " 

She  pulled  Blue  down  to  a  walk  and  rode  slowly  for 
a  couple  of  rods,  fighting  against  the  reaction  that  crept 
inexorably  over  her  anger,  chilling  it  and  making  it 


284    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

seem  weak  and  unworthy.  With  a  sudden  impulse 
born  of  her  stern  instincts  of  justice,  she  jerked  Blue 
around  and  galloped  back.  Charlie  had  disappeared, 
and  Peter  Howling  Dog  was  walking  sullenly  toward 
the  corraled  cattle.  Marthy  was  going  slowly  up  the 
path  to  the  cabin,  looking  old  and  bent  and  broken- 
spirited  because  of  her  bowed  shoulders  and  stiff,  rheu- 
matic gait,  but  harsh  and  unyielding  as  to  her  face. 
Billy  Louise  stopped  by  the  fence  and  called  to  her. 
Marthy  turned,  stared  at  her  sourly,  and  stood  where 
she  was. 

"  Wall,  what  d'yuh  want  now  ? "  she  asked  uncom- 
promisingly. 

Billy  Louise  fought  back  an  answering  antagonism. 
She  must  be  just;  she  could  not  blame  Marthy  for 
feeling  hard  toward  her.  She  had  insulted  them  hor- 
ribly and  killed  Marthy's  dog. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  I  'm  sorry  I  was  so  mean, 
Marthy,"  she  said  bravely.  "  I  have  n't  any  excuse  to 
make  for  it;  only  you  must  see  yourself  what  a  shock 
it  would  be  to  a  person  to  find  those  cattle  down  here. 
But  I  know  you  're  honest,  and  so  is  Charlie.  And  I 
know  you  '11  do  what 's  right.  I  'm  sorry  I  told  Char- 
lie to  go  to  the  devil,  and  I  'm  sorry  I  shot  your  dog, 
Marthy." 

Apologies  did  not  come  easily  to  Billy  Louise.  She 
wheeled  then  and  rode  away  at  a  furious  gallop,  be- 
fore Marthy  could  do  more  than  open  her  grim  lips 
for  reply. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

BILLY   LOUISE   GETS   A   SUBPBISE 

FRIGHTENED,  worried,  sick  at  heart  because 
her  crowding  doubts  and  suspicions  had  suddenly 
developed  into  black  certainty  just  when  she  had  thought 
them  dead  forever,  Billy  Louise  rode  up  the  narrow, 
rocky  gorge.  She  had  come  to  have  a  vague  compre- 
hension of  the  temptation  Ward  must  have  felt.  She 
had  come  to  accept  pityingly  the  possibility  that  the 
canker  of  old  influences  had  eaten  more  deeply  than 
appeared  on  the  surface.  She  had  set  herself  stanchly 
beside  him  as  his  friend,  who  would  help  him  win 
back  his  self-respect.  She  felt  sure  that  he  must  suffer 
terribly  with  that  keen,  analytical  mind  of  his,  when 
he  stopped  to  think  at  all.  He  had  no  warped  ethics 
wherewith  to  ease  his  conscience.  She  knew  his  ideas 
of  right  and  wrong  were  as  uncompromising  as  her  own, 
and  if  he  stole  cattle,  he  did  it  with  his  eyes  wide  open 
to  the  wrong  he  was  doing.  And  yet  — 

"  That 's  bad  enough,  but  to  try  and  fasten  evidence 
on  someone  else !  "  Billy  Louise  gritted  her  teeth  over 
the  treachery  of  it.  She  believed  he  had  done  that 
very  thing.  How  could  she  help  it  ?  She  had  seen  the 
corral  and  had  seen  Ward  ride  away  from  it  in  the 
dusk  of  evening;  or  she  believed  she  had  seen  him, 
which  was  the  same  thing.  She  knew  that  Ward's  pros- 
perity was  out  of  proportion  with  his  visible  resources. 


286    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

And  she  knew  what  lay  behind  him.  Was  his  version 
of  the  past  after  all  the  correct  one!  Might  not  the 
paragraph  she  had  burned  been  nothing  more  than  the 
truth  ? 

Billy  Louise  fought  for  him;  fought  with  her  stern, 
youthful  judgment  which  was  so  uncompromising.  It 
takes  years  of  close  contact  with  life  to  give  one  a  sure 
understanding  of  human  weakness  and  human  endeavor. 

At  the  ford,  when  Blue  would  have  crossed  and  taken 
the  trail  home,  Billy  Louise  reined  him  impulsively 
the  other  way.  Until  that  instant  she  had  not  intended 
to  seek  Ward,  but  once  her  fingers  had  twitched  the 
reins  against  Blue's  neck,  she  did  not  hesitate;  she 
did  not  even  argue  with  herself.  She  just  glanced  up 
at  the  sun,  saw  that  it  was  not  yet  noon  —  so  much  may 
happen  in  two  or  three  hours !  —  and  sent  Blue  up  the 
hill  at  a  lope. 

She  did  not  know  what  she  would  do  or  what  she 
would  say  when  she  saw  Ward.  She  knew  that  she  was 
full  of  bitterness  and  disappointment  and  chagrin.  She 
had  accused  innocent  persons  of  a  crime.  Ward  had 
placed  her  in  that  position  and  compelled  her  to  recant 
and  apologize.  She  had  offended  Marthy  beyond  for- 
giveness —  and  Charlie  Fox.  Her  face  burned  with 
shame  when  she  remembered  the  things  she  had  said 
to  them.  Ward  was  the  cause  of  that  humiliation ;  and 
Ward  was  going  to  know  exactly  what  she  thought  of 
him ;  beyond  that  she  did  not  go. 

The  two  mares  fed  dispiritedly  at  the  lowest  corner 
of  the  field,  their  hair  rough  with  exposure  to  the  win- 
ter winds  and  the  storms,  their  ribs  showing.  With 
all  the  hay  he  had  put  up.  Ward  might  at  least  keep 


BILLY  LOUISE  SURPRISED       '287 

his  horses  in  better  shape,  Billy  Louise  censured,  as 
she  passed  them  by.  A  few  head  of  cows  and  calves 
wandered  aimlessly  among  the  thinnest  fringe  of  wil- 
lows along  the  creek;  they  showed  more  ribs  than  did 
the  mares.  Billy  Louise  pulled  her  lips  tight.  They 
did  not  look  as  though  they  had  been  fed  a  forkful 
of  hay  all  winter ;  your  true  range  man  or  woman  gets 
to  know  these  things  instinctively. 

Farther  along,  Billy  Louise  heard  a  welcoming  nicker 
and  turned  her  head.  Here  came  Rattler,  thin-flanked 
and  rough-coated,  trotting  down  a  shallow  gulley  to 
meet  Blue.  The  two  horses  chummed  together  when- 
ever Ward  was  at  the  Wolverine.  Billy  Louise  pulled 
up  and  waited  till  Rattler  reached  her.  He  and  Blue 
rubbed  noses,  and  Blue  laid  back  his  ears  and  shook 
his  head  with  teeth  bared,  in  playful  pretense  of 
anger.  Rattler  kicked  up  his  heels  in  disdain  at  the 
threat  and  trotted  alongside  them. 

Billy  Louise  rode  with  puckered  eyebrows.  Ward 
might  neglect  his  stock,  but  he  would  never  neglect 
Rattler  like  this.  And  he  must  be  at  home,  since  here 
was  his  horse.  Or  else  .  .  . 

She  struck  Blue  suddenly  with  her  rein-ends  and 
went  clattering  up  the  trail  where  the  snow  lay  in 
shaded,  crusty  patches  rimmed  with  dirt.  The  trail 
was  untracked  save  by  the  loose  stock.  Where  was 
Ward  ?  What  had  happened  to  him  ?  She  looked  again 
at  Rattler.  There  was  no  sign  of  recent  saddle-marks 
along  his  side,  no  telltale  imprint  of  the  cinch  under 
his  belly.  Where  was  Ward  ? 

Blind,  unreasoning  terror  filled  Billy  Louise.  She 
struck  Blue  again  and  plunged  into  the  icy  creek- 


288    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

crossing  near  the  stable.  She  stopped  there  just  long 
enough  to  see  how  empty  and  desolate  it  was,  and 
how  the  horses  and  cattle  had  huddled  against  its  shel- 
tering wall  out  of  the  biting  winds ;  and  how  the  door 
was  shut  and  fastened  so  that  they  could  not  get  in. 
She  opened  it  and  looked  in,  and  shut  it  again.  Then 
she  turned  and  ran,  white-faced,  to  the  cabin.  Where 
was  Ward?  What  had  happened  to  Ward?  Thief 
or  honest  man,  treacherous  or  true  —  what  had  hap- 
pened to  him? 

Billy  Louise  saw  the  doorstep  banked  over  with  old, 
crusted  snow.  Her  heart  gave  a  jump  and  stopped 
still.  She  felt  her  knees  shake  under  her.  Her  face 
seemed  to  pinch  together,  the  flesh  clinging  close  to 
the  bones.  Her  whole  being  seemed  to  contract  with 
the  deadly  fear  that  gripped  her.  It  was  like  that  chill 
morning  when  she  had  crept  out  of  her  cot  and  gone 
over  to  mommie's  bed  and  had  lifted  mommie's  hand 
that  was  hanging  down.  .  .  . 

She  came  to  herself;  she  was  running  up  the  creek, 
away  from  the  cabin.  Running  and  stumbling  over 
rocks,  and  getting  tripped  with  her  riding-skirt.  She 
stopped,  as  soon  as  she  realized  what  she  was  doing; 
she  stopped  and  stood  with  her  hands  pressed  hard 
against  each  side  of  her  face,  forcing  herself  to  calm- 
ness again  —  or  at  least  to  sanity.  She  had  to  go  back. 
She  told  herself  so,  many  times.  "  You  've  got  to  go 
back !  "  she  repeated,  as  if  to  a  second  person.  "  You 
can't  be  such  a  fool ;  you  've  got  to  go  back.  And  you  've 
got  to  go  inside.  You  've  got  to  do  it." 

So  Billy  Louise  went  back  to  the  cabin,  slowly,  with 
shaking  legs  and  a  heart  that  fluttered  and  stopped, 


BILLY  LOUISE  SURPRISED       289 

fluttered  and  jumped  and  stopped,  and  made  her  stag- 
ger as  she  walked.  She  reached  the  doorstep  and  stood 
there  with  her  palms  pressing  hard  against  her  cheeks 
again.  "  You  've  got  to  do  it.  You  've  got  to !  "  she 
whispered  to  herself  commandingly. 

She  never  doubted  that  Ward  was  inside.  She 
thought  she  would  find  him  dead  —  dead  and  horrible, 
perhaps.  No  other  solution  seemed  to  fit  the  circum- 
stances. He  was  in  there,  dead.  He  had  been  dead 
for  some  time,  because  there  were  no  saddle-marks  on 
Rattler,  and  because  the  snow  was  crusted  over  the  door- 
step with  never  a  mark  to  break  its  smooth  roundness. 
She  had  to  go  in.  She  was  the  person  who  must  find 
him  and  do  what  she  could.  She  must  do  it,  because 
he  was  Ward  —  her  Ward. 

It  took  courage  to  open  that  door,  but  Billy  Louise 
had  courage  enough  to  open  it,  and  to  step  inside  and 
close  the  door  after  her.  She  did  not  look  at  any- 
thing in  the  cabin  while  she  did  it,  though.  She  kept 
her  eyelids  down  so  that  she  only  saw  the  floor  directly 
in  front  of  the  door.  She  had  a  sense  of  relief  that 
it  looked  perfectly  natural,  though  dusty. 

"  Throw  up  your  hands !  "  came  hoarsely  from  the 
bunk.  Billy  Louise  gasped  and  pulled  her  gun,  and 
dropped  crouching  to  the  floor.  Also  she  looked  up. 
She  had  not  recognized  that  voice,  and  while  she  had 
never  except  in  imagination  faced  an  emergency  like 
this,  she  had  played  robbers  and  rescues  too  often  not 
to  have  formed  a  mental  habit  to  fit  the  situation.  What 
she  did  she  had  done  many,  .many  times  in  her  "  pre- 
tend "  world,  sitting  somewhere  dreaming. 

From  her  crouching  position  she  looked  into  Ward's 


290    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

fever-wild  eyes.  He  was  sitting  up  in  the  bunk,  and 
he  was  pointing  his  big  forty-five  at  her  relentlessly. 
"Get  up  from  there!"  he  ordered  sternly.  "Don't 
try  any  game  like  that  on  me,  Buck  Olney!  Get  up 
and  go  over  and  sit  in  that  chair.  I  've  got  a  few 
things  to  say  to  you." 

Billy  Louise  somehow  grasped  the  truth,  up  to  a 
certain  point.  Ward  was  sick ;  so  sick  he  did  n't  know 
her.  She  thought  she  would  better  humor  him.  She 
got  up  and  went  and  sat  in  the  chair  as  he  directed. 

Ward,  keeping  the  gun  pointing  her  way,  sneered 
at  her  in  a  way  that  made  the  soul  of  Billy  Louise 
crimple.  She  faced  him  big-eyed,  too  amazed  at  the 
change  in  him  to  feel  any  fear  that  he  would  harm  her. 
He  had  whiskers  two  inches  long.  She  would  n't  have 
known  him  except  for  his  hair  —  and  that  was  terribly 
tousled ;  and  his  eyes,  though  they  were  wild  and  angry. 
His  voice  was  hoarse,  and  while  he  glared  at  her,  he 
coughed  with  a  hard,  croupy  resonance. 

"  So  you  came  back,  did  yuh  ?  "  he  asked  grimly  at 
last.  "  Well,  you  did  n't  get  a  chance  to  plug  me  in  the 
back.  How  long  did  you  lay  up  there  on  the  bluff 
this  time,  waiting  to  catch  me  when  I  was  n't  looking  ? 
I  've  been  wishing  I  'd  left  that  rope  so  it  would  have 
hung  you,  you  damned  !  "  (Billy  Louise  lis- 
tened round-eyed  to  certain  man-sized  epithets  strange 
to  her  ears.) 

"  I  suppose  you  and  Foxy  and  that  halfbreed  have 
been  fixing  up  some  more  evidence,  huh  ?  You  figure 
that  I  can't  catch  'em  this  time  and  work  the  brands 
over,  so  they  '11  stand  Y6es,  and  I  '11  get  railroaded  to 
the  pen.  Well,  you  've  overplayed  your  hand,  old-timer. 


BILLY  LOUISE  SURPRISED       291 

I  let  you  fellows  down  easy,  last  time.  I  don't  reckon 
Foxy  objected  much  to  those  few  I  turned  back  to  him, 
and  I  don't  reckon  you  did  any  kicking  when  you  found 
I  'd  cut  the  rope  so  it  would  n't  hold  your  rotten  carcass. 
You  can't  let  well  enough  alone,  though.  You  thought 
you  'd  raise  me,  did  you  ?  You  thought  you  'd  come 
back  and  try  another  whack  at  me  behind  my  back. 
You  knew  damned  well  I  was  n't  the  kind  of  man  that 
would  jump  the  country.  You  knew  you  'd  find  me  right 
here,  attending  to  my  business  like  I  've  always  done. 

"  But  you  've  overplayed  your  hand.  This  time  I  'm 
going  to  get  you  —  and  Foxy  and  the  breed  along  with 
you.  It  was  a  damned,  rotten  trick,  running  Y6es  over 
Seabeck's  brand.  If  I  had  n't  caught  you  in  the  act, 
you  'd  have  planted  them  cattle  where  all  hell  could  n't 
have  saved  me  when  they  were  found.  If  I  had  n't 
caught  you  at  it  and  run  MK  monograms  over  the  whole 
cheese,  I  'd  have  been  up  against  it  for  fair.  So  now 
you  're  going  to  get  what 's  coming  -to  yuh.  I  won't 
take  any  chances  on  your  not  trying  it  again.  I  'm 
going  to  protect  myself  right. 

"  You  throw  that  gun  on  the  bed."  (Billy  Louise 
did  so,  her  eyes  still  upon  Ward's  flushed  face.)  "  Now, 
get  down  that  tablet  from  the  shelf.  Here's  a  pencil." 
He  drew  one  from  under  his  pillow  and  tossed  it  to- 
ward her.  "  Now  you  write  the  truth  about  all  this 
rustling.  It 's  a  bigger  thing  than  shows  right  in  this 
neighborhood.  I  know  that.  And  I  know  too  that  Foxy 
has  been  pulling  down  some-  on  the  side.  He  never 
paid  for  all  the  stock  that 's  running  around  vented 
and  rebranded  MK.  I  've  got  that  sized  up.  Pretty 
smooth  trick,  too;  a  heap  better  than  working  brands. 


292    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

He  ought  to  have  been  satisfied  with  that  —  but  a  crook 
never  is  satisfied.  I  knew  he  was  n't  the  tenderfoot  he 
tried  to  make  out,  and  when  I  saw  some  of  his  stock 
and  that  gate  fixed  to  ring  a  bell  when  it  was  opened, 
I  knew  he  was  a  crook.  But  he  made  a  big  mistake 
when  he  threw  in  with  you,  you  — 

"  I  want  you  to  write  down  the  truth  about  that 
Hardup  deal ;  who  was  in  with  you.  I  know,  all  right, 
but  I  want  it  down  on  paper.  And  I  want  to  know 
how  long  Foxy  's  been  in  with  you,  and  who  's  working 
the  game  on  the  outside.  Get  busy ;  write  it  all  down. 
I  '11  give  you  all  the  time  you  need ;  don't  leave  out 
anything.  Dates  and  all,  I  want  the  whole  graft. 
Don't  try  to  get  away.  I  've  got  this  gun  loaded  to 
the  guards,  and  you  know  I  'm  aching  for  an  ex- 
cuse— "  He  stopped  and  coughed  again,  hoarsely, 
rackingly.  Then  he  lay  quiet,  except  for  his  rasping 
breath  and  watched. 

Billy  Louise,  with  the  tablet  on  her  trembling  knees, 
pretended  to  write.  From  under  her  lashes  she  watched 
Ward  curiously.  She  saw  his  attention  waver,  saw  his 
eyes  wander  aimlessly  about  the  room.  She  sat  very 
still  and  waited,  making  scrawly  marks  that  had  no 
meaning  at  all.  She  saw  Ward's  fingers  loosen  on 
the  revolver,  saw  his  head  turn  wearily  on  the  pillow. 
He  was  staring  out  through  the  window  at  the  brilliant 
blue  of  the  sky  with  the  dazzling  white  clouds  drifting 
like  bits  of  cotton  to  the  northward.  He  had  forgotten 
her. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
THE  HOOKIN'-COUGH  MAN 

BILLY  LOUISE  waited  another  minute  or  two, 
weighing  the  possibilities.  She  saw  Ward's  fin-~ 
gers  drop  away  from  the  gun,  but  they  remained  close 
enough  for  a  dangerously  quick  gripping  of  it  again, 
if  the  whim  seized  him.  Still  —  surely  to  goodness, 
Ward  would  never  get  crazy  enough  to  hurt  her !  Per- 
haps her  feminine  assurance  of  her  hold  on  him,  more 
than  her  courage,  kept  her  nerves  fairly  steady.  She 
bit  the  pencil  absently,  watching  him. 

Ward  turned  his  head  restlessly  on  the  pillow  and 
coughed  again.  Billy  Louise  got  up  quietly,  went  close 
to  the  bed,  and  laid  her  hand  on  his  forehead.  His  head 
was  hot,  and  the  veins  were  swollen  and  throbbing  on 
his  temples. 

"  Brave  Buckaroo  got  a  headache  ? "  she  queried 
softly,  stroking  his  temples  soothingly.  "  Got  the 
hookin'-cough,  too.  Get  every  measly  thing  he  can  think 
of.  Even  got  a  grouch  against  the  Flower  of  the 
Ranch-oh !  "  Her  voice  was  crooningly  soft  and  sweet, 
as  if  she  were  murmuring  over  a  sleepy  baby. 

Ward  closed  his  eyes,  opened  them,  and  looked  up 
into  her  .face.  One  hand  came  up  uncertainly  and  caught 
her  fingers  closely.  "  Wilhemina-mine !  "  he  said,  in  his 
hoarse  voice.  His  eyes  cleared  to  sanity  under  her 
touch. 


294    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Billy  Louise  drew  a  small  sigh  of  relief  and  reached 
unobtrusively  with  her  free  hand  for  the  gun.  She  slid 
it  down  away  from  his  fingers,  and  when  he  still  paid 
no  attention,  she  picked  it  up  quite  openly  and  laid 
it  against  the  footboard.  Ward  did  not  say  anything. 
He  seemed  altogether  occupied  with  the  amazing  reality 
of  her  presence.  He  clung  to  her  fingers  and  looked 
at  her  with  that  intent  stare  of  his,  as  if  he  were  trying 
to  hold  her  there  by  the  sheer  power  of  his  will. 

"  Well,  how  am  I  going  to  doctor  you  and  feed  you 
and  make  you  all  comfy,  with  one  hand  ?  "'  asked  Billy 
Louise  with  quavering  flippancy. 

"Kiss  me!" 

"  Ah  —  might  catch  the  hookin'-cough,"  bantered 
Billy  Louise,  leaning  a  bit  closer. 

"Kiss  me!" 

"  Oh,  well,  I  s'pose  sick  folks  have  to  be  humored." 
Billy  Louise  leaned  closer  still.  "  Mighty  few  kissy 
places  left,"  she  observed  with  the  same  shaky  flippancy, 
a  minute  later.  "  Say,  Ward,  you  look  for  all  the 
world  like  old  Sourdough  Williams !  "  Sourdough  Wil- 
liams, it  may  be  remarked,  was  a  particularly  hairy  and 
unkempt  individual  who  lived  a  more  or  less  nomadic 
life  in  the  hills,  trapping. 

"  You  look  like  —  "  Ward  groped  foggily  for  a 
simile.  Angel  was  altogether  too  commonplace. 

"  Like  the  lady  who  's  going  to  get  busy  right  now, 
making  you  well.  What  have  you  been  doing  to  your- 
self? Never  mind;  I  don't  want  you  talking  your- 
self crazy  again.  Do  you  know  you  tried  to  shoot  me 
up  when  I  came  in?  And  you  made  me  start  in  to 
write  a  record  of  my  sins.  But  that 's  all  right,  see- 


THE  HOOKIX'-COUGH  MAN       295 

ing  you  've  got  the  hookin'-cough,  I  '11  forgive  you  this 
once.  Lie  still  —  and  let  go  my  hand.  I  want  to  put 
a  wet  cloth  on  your  head." 

"  Did  I  —  " 

"  You  did ;  and  then  some.  Forget  it.  You  Ve  got 
a  terrible  cold ;  and  from  the  looks  of  things,  you  've 
had  it  for  about  six  months."  Her  eyes  went  com- 
prehensively about  that  end  of  the  cabin,  with  the  de- 
pleted cracker-box,  the  half-emptied  boxes  of  peaches 
and  tomatoes,  and  the  buckets  that  were  all  but  empty 
of  water.  She  was  shocked  at  the  pitiful  evidence  of 
long  helplessness.  She  did  not  quite  understand.  Surely 
Ward's  cold  had  not  kept  him  in  bed  so  long. 

"  Well,  this  is  no  time  for  mirth  or  laughter,"  she  said 
briskly,  to  hide  how  close  she  was  to  hysteria,  "  since 
it  looks  very  much  like  '  the  morning  after.'  First, 
we  've  got  to  tackle  that  fever  of  yours."  She  picked 
up  a  water-pail  and  started  for  the  door.  As  she  passed 
the  foot  of  the  bunk,  she  confiscated  the  two  revolvers 
and  took  them  outside  with  her.  She  had  no  desire 
to  be  mistaken  again  for  Buck  Olney. 

When  she  came  back,  Ward's  eyes  were  wild  again, 
and  he  started  up  in  bed  and  glared  at  her.  Billy  Louise 
laughed  at  him  and  told  him  to  lie  down  like  a  nice 
buckaroo,  and  Ward,  recalled  to  himself  by  her  voice, 
obeyed.  She  got  the  wash-basin  and  a  towel  and  pre- 
pared to  bathe  his  head.  He  wanted  a  drink.  And 
when  she  held  a  cup  to  his  lips  and  saw  how  greedily 
he  drank,  a  little  sob  broke  unexpectedly  from  her  lips. 
She  gritted  her  teeth  after  it  and  forced  a  laugh. 

"  You  're  sure  a  hard  drinker,"  she  bantered  and 
wet  her  handkerchief  to  lay  on  his  brow. 


296    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

"  That 's  the  first  decent  drink  I  Ve  had  for  a  month," 
he  told  her,  dropping  back  to  the  pillow,  refreshed  to 
the  point  of  clear  thinking.  "  Old  Lady  Fortune  's  still 
playing  football  with  me,  William.  I've  been  laid 
up  with  a  broken  leg  for  about  six  weeks.  And  when 
I  got  gay  and  thought  I  could  handle  myself  again,  I 
put  myself  ou-t  of  business  for  awhile,  and  caught  this 
cold  before  I  came  to  and  crawled  back  into  bed.  I  'm 
—  sure  glad  you  showed  up,  old  girl.  I  was  —  get- 
ting up  against  it  for  fair."  He  coughed. 

"  Looks  like  it."  Billy  Louise  held  herself  rigidly 
back  from  any  emotional  expression.  She  could  not 
afford  to  "  go  to  pieces  "  now.  She  tried  to  think  just 
what  a  trained  nurse  would  do,  in  such  a  case.  Her 
hospital  experience  would  be  of  some  use  here,  she 
told  herself.  She  remembered  reading  somewhere  that 
no  experience  is  valueless,  if  one  only  applies  the  knowl- 
edge gained. 

"  First,"  she  said  cheerfully,  "  the  patient  must  be 
kept  quiet  and  cheerful.  So  don't  go  jumping  up  and 
down  on  your  broken  leg,  Ward  Warren ;  the  nurse  for- 
bids it.  And  smile,  if  it  kills  you." 

Ward  grinned  appreciatively.  Sick  as  he  was,  he 
realized  the  gameness  of  Billy  Louise;  what  he  failed 
to  realize  was  the  gameness  of  himself.  "  I  'm  a  pretty 
worthless  specimen,  right  now,"  he  said  apologetically. 
"  But  I  'm  yours  to  command,  Bill-the-Conk.  You  're 
the  doctor." 

"  Nope,  I  'm  the  cook,  right  now.  I  Ve  got  a  hunch. 
How  would  you  like  a  cup  of  tea,  patient  ?  " 

"  I  'd  rather  have  coffee  —  Doctor  William." 

"  Tea,  you  mean.    I  '11  have  it  ready  in  ten  minutes." 


THE  HOOKIN'-COUGH  MAN       297 

Then  she  weakened  before  his  imploring  eyes.  "  You 
really  ought  n't  to  drink  coffee,  with  that  fever,  Ward. 
But,  maybe  if  I  don't  make  it  very  strong  and  put 
in  lots  of  cream  —  We  '11  take  a  chance,  buckaroo !  " 

Ward  watched  her  as  intently  as  if  his  life  depended 
on  her  speed.  He  had  lain  in  that  bunk  for  nearly  six 
weeks  with  the  coffee-pot  sitting  in  plain  sight  on  the 
back  of  the  stove,  twelve  feet  or  so  from  his  reach, 
and  with  the  can  of  coffee  standing  in  plain  sight  on 
the  rough  board  shelf  against  the  wall  by  the  window. 
And  he  had  craved  coffee  almost  as  badly  as  a  drunkard 
craves  whisky. 

The  sound  of  the  fire  snapping  in  the  stove  was  like 
music  to  him.  Later,  the  smell  of  the  coffee  coming 
briskly  to  the  boiling-point  made  his  mouth  water  with 
desire.  And  when  Billy  Louise  jabbed  two  little  slits 
in  a  cream  can  with  the  point  of  a  butcher  knife  and 
poured  a  thin  stream  of  canned  milk  into  a  big,  white 
granite  cup,  Ward's  eyes  turned  traitor  to  his  love  for 
the  girl  and  dwelt  hungrily  upon  the  swift  movements 
of  her  hands. 

"  How  much  sugar,  patient  ?  "  Billy  Louise  turned 
toward  him  with  the  tomato-can  sugar-bowl  in  her 
hands. 

"  None.    I  want  to  taste  the  coffee,  this  trip." 

"  Oh,  all  right !  It 's  the  worst  thing  you  could  think 
of,  but  that 's  the  way  with  a  patient.  Patients  always 
want  what  they  must  n't  have." 

"  Sure  —  get  it,  too."  Ward  spoke  between  long, 
satisfying  gulps.  "  How  's  your  other  patient,  Wil- 
hemina  ?  How  's  mommie  ?  " 

"  Oh,    Ward !      She  's    dead  —  mommie  's    dead !  " 


298    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Billy  Louise  broke  down  unexpectedly  and  completely. 
She  went  down  on  her  knees  beside  the  bed  and  cried 
as  she  had  not  cried  since  she  looked  the  last  time 
at  mommie's  still  face,  held  in  that  terrifying  calm. 
She  cried  until  Ward's  excited  mutterings  warned  her 
that  she  must  pull  herself  together.  She  did,  some- 
how, in  spite  of  her  sorrow  and  her  worry  and  that 
day's  succession  of  emotional  shocks.  She  did  it  be- 
cause Ward  was  sick  —  very  sick,  she  was  afraid  — 
and  there  was  so  much  that  she  must  do  for  him. 

"  You  be  s-still,"  she  commanded  brokenly,  fighting 
for  her  former  safe  cheerfulness.  "  I  'm  all  right.  Pity 
yourself,  if  you  Ve  got  to  pity  somebody.  I  —  can 
stand  —  my  trouble.  I  have  n't  got  any  broken  leg  and 
—  hookin'-cough."  She  managed  a  laugh  then  and 
took  Ward's  hand  from  her  hair  and  laid  it  down  on 
the  blankets.  "  Now  we  won't  talk  about  things  any 
more.  You  've  got  to  have  something  done  for  that 
cold  on  your  lungs."  She  rose  and  stood  looking  down 
at  him  with  puckered  eyebrows. 

"  Mommie  would  say  you  ought  to  have  a  good  sweat," 
she  decided.  "  Got  any  ginger  ?  " 

"  I  dunno.  I  guess  not,"  Ward  muttered  con- 
fusedly. 

"  Well,  I  '11  go  out  and  find  some  sage,  then,  and 
give  you  sage  tea.  That 's  another  cure-all.  Say,  Ward, 
I  saw  Rattler  down  the  creek.  He  's  looking  fine  and 
dandy.  He  came  whinnying  down  out  of  that  draw, 
to  meet  us;  just  tickled  to  death  to  see  somebody." 

"  Don't  blame  him,"  croaked  Ward.  "  It 's  enough 
to  tickle  anybody."  Her  voice  seemed  to  steady  his 
straying  fancies.  "  How  're  —  the  cattle  —  looking  ?  " 


THE  HOOKIN'-COUGH  MAN       299 

"  Just  fine,"  lied  Billy  Louise.  "  You  're  the  skin- 
niest thing  I  've  seen  on  the  ranch.  Now  do  you  think 
you  can  keep  your  senses,  while  I  go  and  pick  some 
nice,  good  meddy  off  a  sage  bush  ?  " 

"  I  guess  so."  Ward  spoke  drowsily.  "  Give  me 
some  more  coffee  and  I  can." 

"  Oh,  you  're  the  pesteringest  patient !  I  told  you 
coffee  is  n't  good  for  what  ails  you,  but  I  suppose  —  " 
She  poured  him  another  cup  of  coffee,  weakened  it  with 
hot  water,  and  let  him  drink  it  straight.  After  all,  per- 
haps the  hot  drink  would  induce  the  perspiration  that 
would  break  the  fever.  She  pulled  up  the  wolf-skins  and 
the  extra  blankets  he  had  tossed  aside  in  his  feverish 
restlessness  and  covered  him  to  his  chin. 

"  If  you  don't  move  till  I  come  back,"  she  promised, 
"  I  '11  maybe  give  you  another  cup  —  after  you  've  filled 
up  on  sage  tea."  With  that  qualified  hope  to  cheer  him, 
she  left  him. 

She  did  not  spend  all  her  time  picking  sage  twigs. 
A  bush  grew  at  the  corner  of  the  cabin  within  easy 
reach.  She  went  first  down  to  the  stable  and  led  Blue 
inside  and  unsaddled  him.  Rattler  was  standing  near, 
and  she  tried  to  lead  him  in  also,  but  he  fled  from 
her  approach.  She  found  the  pitchfork  and  managed 
to  scratch  a  few  forkfuls  of  hay  down  from  a  corner 
of  the  stack;  enough  to  fill  a  manger  for  Blue  and  to 
leave  a  little  heap  beside  the  stable  for  Rattler. 

When  she  was  leaving  the  stable  to  return  to  the 
house,  however,  she  changed  her  plan  a  little.  She  went 
back,  carried  the  small  pile  of  hay  into  the  stable,  and 
filled  another  manger.  Then  she  took  down  the  wire 
gate  of  the  hay  corral  and  laid  it  flat  alongside  the 


300   RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

fence.  Rattler  would  go  in  to  the  stack,  and  she  would 
shut  him  in.  That  would  simplify  the  catching  of  him 
when  he  was  needed.  She  would  find  something  in 
which  to  carry  water  to  him,  if  he  was  too  frisky  to 
lead  to  the  creek.  Billy  Louise  was  no  coward  with 
horses,  but  she  recognized  certain  fixed  limitations  in 
the  management  of  a  snuffy  brute  like  Rattler.  He 
was  not  like  Blue,  whom  she  could  bully  and  tease 
and  coax.  Rattler  was  distinctly  a  man's  saddle-horse. 
Billy  Louise  had  never  done  more  than  pat  his  shoul- 
der after. he  was  caught  and  saddled  and,  therefore, 
prepared  for  handling.  She  foresaw  some  perturbation 
of  spirit  in  regard  to  Rattler. 

Ward  was  lying  quiet  when  she  went  in,  except  that 
he  was  waving  her  handkerchief  to  and  fro  by  the  cor- 
ners to  cool  it.  Billy  Louise  took  it  from  him,  wet  it 
again  with  cold  water,  and  scolded  him  for  getting  his 
arms  from  under  the  covers.  That,  she  said,  was  no 
nice  way  for  a  hookin'-cough  man  to  do. 

Ward  meekly  submitted  to  being  covered  to  his  eyes. 
Then  he  wriggled  his  chin  free  and  demanded  that  she 
kiss  him.  Ward  was  fairly  drunk  with  happiness  be- 
cause she  was  there,  in  the  cabin.  The  dreary  weeks 
behind  him  were  a  nightmare  to  be  forgotten.  His  Wil- 
hemina-mine  was  there,  and  she  liked  him  to  pieces. 
Though  she  had  not  affirmed  it  with  words,  her  eyes 
when  she  looked  at  him  told  him  so ;  and  she  had  kissed 
him  when  he  asked  her  to.  He  wanted  her  to  repeat 
the  ecstasy. 

"  Ward  Warren,  you  're  a  perfectly  awful  hookin'- 
cough  man !  There.  'Now  that 's  going  to  be  the  very 
last  one  —  Oh,  Ward,  it  is  n't !  "  She  knelt  and  curved 


THE  HOOKIN'-COUGH  MAN       301 

an  arm  around  his  face  and  kissed  him  again  and  yet 
again.  "  I  do  love  you,  Ward.  I  've  been  a  weak- 
kneed,  horrid  thing,  and  I  'm  ashamed  to  the  middle 
of  my  bones.  You  're  my  own  brave  buckaroo  always 
—  always !  You  Ve  done  what  no  other  man  would  do, 
and  you  don't  whine  about  it ;  and  I  've  been  weak  and 
-  horrid ;  and  I  '11  have  to  love  you  about  a  million 
years  before  I  can  quit  feeling  ashamed."  She  kissed 
him  again  with  a  passion  of  remorse  for  her  doubts  of 
him. 

"  Are  you  through  being  pals,  Wilhemina  ?  "  Ward 
broke  rules  and  freed  an  arm,  so  that  he  could  hold 
her  closer. 

"  No,  I  'm  just  beginning.  Just  beginning  right. 
I  'm  your  pal  for  keeps.  But  —  " 

"  I  love  you  for  keeps,  lady  mine."  Ward  stifled 
another  cough.  "  When  are  you  going  to  —  marry 
me?" 

"  Oh,  when  you  get  over  the  hookin'-cough,  I  s'pose." 
Once  more  Billy  Louise,  for  the  good  of  her  patient, 
forced  herself  into  safe  flippancy  —  that  was  not  flip- 
pant at  all,  but  merely  a  tender  pretense. 

"  Now  it 's  up  to  you  to  show  me  whether  you  are 
in  any  hurry  at  all  to  get  well,"  she  said.  "  Keep  your 
hands  under  the  covers  while  I  make  some  tea.  That 
fever  of  yours  has  got  to  be  stopped  immediately  —  to 
once." 

She  went  over  and  busied  herself  about  the  stove, 
never  once  looking  toward  the  bed,  though  she  must 
have  felt  Ward's  eyes  worshiping  her.  She  was  ter- 
ribly worried  about  Ward;  so  worried  that  she  put 
everything  else  into  the  background  of  her  mind  and 


302    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

set  herself  sternly  to  the  need  of  breaking  the  fever 
and  lessening  the  evident  congestion  in  his  lungs. 

She  hunted  through  the  cupboards  and  found  a  bot- 
tle of  turpentine;  syrupy  and  yellowed  with  age,  but 
pungent  with  strength.  She  found  some  lard  in  a  small 
bucket  and  melted  half  a  teacupful.  Then  she  tore 
up  a  woolen  undershirt  she  found  hanging  on  a  nail 
and  bore  relentlessly  down  upon  him. 

"  You  gotta  be  greased  all  over  your  lungs,"  she  an- 
nounced with  a  matter-of-factness  that  cost  her  some- 
thing; for  Billy  Louise's  innate  modesty  was  only  just 
topped  by  her  good  sense. 

Ward  submitted  without  protest  while  she  bared  his 
chest  —  as  white  as  her  own  —  and  applied  the  warm 
mixture  with  a  smoothly  vigorous  palm.  "  That  '11  fix 
the  hookin'-cough,"  she  said,  as  she  spread  the  warm 
layers  of  woolen  cloth  smoothly  from  shoulder  to  shoul- 
der. "  How  does  it  feel  ?  " 

"  Great,"  he  assured  her  succinctly,  and  wisely  omit- 
ted any  love-making. 

"  Will  your  game  leg  let  you  turn  over  ?  Because 
there  's  some  dope  left,  and  it  ought  to  go  between  your 
shoulders." 

"  The  game  leg  ought  to  stand  more  than,  that,"  he 
told  her,  turning  slowly.  "  If  I  had  n'l  got  this  cold 
tacked  onto  me,  I  'd  have  been  trying  to  walk  on  it 
by  now." 

"  Better  give  it  time  —  since  you  Ve  been  game 
enough  to  lie  here  all  this  while  and  take  care  of  it. 
I  don't  believe  I  'd  have  had  nerve  enough  for  that, 
Ward."  She  poured  turpentine  and  lard  into  her  palm, 
readied  inside  his  collar  arid  rubbed  it  on  his  shoul- 


THE  HOOKIN'-COUGH  MAN       303 

ders.  "  Good  thing  you  had  plenty  of  grub  handy. 
But  it  must  hare  been  awful !  " 

"  It  was  pretty  damned  lonesome,"  he  admitted  lacon- 
ically, and  that  was  as  far  as  his  complainings  went. 

Billy  Louise  then  poured  the  water  off  the  sage  leaves 
she  had  been  brewing  in  a  tin  basin,  carefully  fished  out 
a  stem  or  two,  and  made  Ward  drink  every  bitter  drop. 
Then  she  covered  him  to  the  eyes  and  hardened  her 
heart  against  his  discomfort,  while  she  kept  the  hand- 
kerchief cool  on  his  head  and  between  times  swept  the 
floor  with  a  carefully  dampened  broom  and  wiped  the 
dust  off  things  and  restored  the  room  to  its  most  cheer- 
ful atmosphere  of  livableness. 

"  Wan'  a  drink,"  mumbled  Ward,  with  a  blanket  over 
his  mouth  and  a  raveled  thread  tickling  his  nose  so 
that  he  squirmed. 

Billy  Louise  went  over  and  laid  her  fingers  on  his 
neck.  "  I  can't  tell  whether  it 's  grease  or  perspira- 
tion," she  said,  laughing  a  little.  "  What  are  you 
squinting  up  your  nose  for?  Surely  to  goodness  you 
don't  mind  that  little,  harmless  raveling?  If  you 
would  n't  go  on  breathing,  it  would  n't  wiggle  around 
so  much !  "  Nevertheless,  she  plucked  the  tormenting 
thread  and  threw  it  on  the  floor. 

"  Gimme  —  drink,"  Ward  mumbled  again. 

"  There  's  more  sage  tea  —  " 

"Waugh!" 

"  I  suppose  that  means  you  are  n't  crazy  about  sage 

tea !    Well,  I  might  give  you  a  teenty-weenty  speck  more 

of  coffee.    You  can't  have  water  yet,  you  know.    You  Ve 

—  you  've  got  to  sweat  like  a  nigger  in  a  cotton  patch 

first."     (Billy  Louise  could  talk  very  nicely  when  she 


wanted  to  do  so.  The  Billy  of  her  could  also  be  hu- 
manly inelegant  when  she  felt  like  it,  as  you  see.) 

Ward  grunted  something  and  afterwards  signified  that 
he  would  take  the  coffee  and  call  it  square. 

The  next  time  she  went  near  him,  he  was  wrinkling 
his  lean  nose  because  beads  of  perspiration  were  stand- 
ing there  and  slipping  occasionally  down  to  his  cheeks. 

"  Fine !  You  're  two  niggers  in  a  cotton  patch  now," 
she  announced  cheeringly.  "  And  Mr.  Hookin'-cough 
will  have  to  hunt  another  home,  I  reckon.  You  were  n't 
half  as  hoarse  when  you  swore  that  last  time." 

It  was  physically  impossible  for  Ward  to  blush,  since 
he  was  already  the  color  of  a  boiled  beet ;  but  he  looked 
guilty  when  she  uncovered  the  rest  of  his  face  and 
wiped  off  the  gathered  moisture.  "  I  did  n't  think 
you  'd  hear,"  he  grinned  embarrassedly. 

"  I  was  listening  for  it,  buckaroo.  I  'd  have  been 
scared  to  pieces  if  you  had  n't  cussed  a  little.  I  'd 
have  thought  sure  you  were  going  to  die.  A  man," 
she  added  sententiously,  "  always  has  a  chance  as  long 
as  he  's  able  to  swear.  It 's  like  a  horse  wiggling  his 
ears." 

The  comparison  reminded  her  that  she  intended  to 
shut  Kattler  in  the  hay  corral ;  she  dried  Ward's  hands 
hastily,  pulled  the  wolf-skins  off  the  bed,  and  com- 
manded him  to  keep  covered  until  she  came  back.  She 
ran  down  bareheaded  to  the  stable,  saw  Rattler  indus- 
triously boring  his  nose  into  the  stack,  and  put  up  the 
gate. 

When  she  went  into  the  cabin  again,  Ward  gave  a 
start  and  opened  his  eyes  like  one  who  has  been  dozing. 
Billv  Louise  smiled  with  gratification.  He  was  better. 


THE  HOOKIN'-COUGH  MAN       305 

She  knew  he  was  better.  She  did  not  speak,  but  went 
over  to  the  stove  and  pretended  to  be  busy  there,  though 
she  was  careful  to  make  no  noise.  When  she  turned 
finally  and  glanced  toward  the  bed,  Ward  was  asleep. 

Billy  Louise  took  a  deep  breath,  tiptoed  over"  to  the 
bench  beside  the  table,  sat  down,  and  pillowed  her  head 
on  her  folded  arms.  She  wanted  to  cry,  and  she  needed 
to  think,  and  she  was  deadly,  deadly  tired. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE   WOLF    JOKE 

BILLY  LOUISE  stayed  all  night.  She  was  afraid 
to  leave  Ward  until  his  cold  was  safely  better, 
and  there  was  no  one  living  near  enough  to  summon; 
no  one  whom  she  wanted  to  summon,  in  fact,  however 
close  they  might  have  been.  She  spent  most  of  the 
night  curled  comfortably  on  the  wolf-skins  beside  the 
stove,  with  a  sack  of  flour  for  a  pillow  and  Ward's  fur 
coat  for  covering.  Ward  slept  more  unbrokenly  than 
he  had  done  for  a  long  time,  while  Billy  Louise  lay 
cuddled  under  the  smelly  fur  and  thought  and  thought. 

In  ,the  morning,  if  Ward  were  well  enough,  she  meant 
to  ask  him  about  those  cattle  he  had  mentioned  when 
he  thought  her  Buck  Olney.  They  were  the  same  ones 
which  she  had  seen  in  the  Cove,  she  knew.  Ward  had 
told  enough  to  prove  that.  He  had,  in  fact,  told  nearly 
all  she  needed  to  know  —  except  the  mystery  of  his 
prosperity.  He  had  not  mentioned  that,  and  Billy 
Louise  was  more  curious  than  ever  about  his  "  wolf 
hunting." 

At  sunrise  she  rebuilt  the  fire  and  made  fresh  coffee 
and  a  stew  from  the  pieces  of  jerky  she  had  soaked  over- 
night for  the  purpose.  She  wanted  eggs,  and  bread 
for  toast,  and  fresh  cream;  but  she  did  not  have  them, 
and  so  she  managed  a  very  creditable  breakfast  for  her 
patient  without  these  desirables. 


THE  WOLF  JOKE  807 

"  Say,  that 's  great.  A  fellow  does  n't  appreciate 
coffee  and  warm  food  until  he  's  eaten  out  of  cans  and 
boxes  for  a  month  or  so.  You  're  a  great  little  lady, 
Wilhemina.  I  wish  you  'd  happened  along  sooner  — 
about  six  weeks  sooner.  I  'd  have  got  some  pleasure 
out  of  my  broken  leg  then,  maybe." 

"  Was  it  —  did  Buck  Olney  break  it  ?  "  Billy  Louise 
knew  he  had  not,  but  she  had  been  waiting  for  a  chance 
to  open  the  subject. 

"  No.  I  broke  it  myself,  pulling  Rattler  off  a  bank 
into  some  rocks.  I  believe  I  could  walk  on  it,  doctor, 
if  you  could  rustle  me  something  to  use  for  crutches. 
That 's  what  held  me  in  bed  so  long.  Reckon  you  could 
manufacture  a  pair  for  me  ?  "  His  eyes  made  love. 
"  You  've  done  everything  else."  He  caught  her  hand 
and  kissed  the  palm  of  it.  "  Can't  the  Billy  part  turn 
carpenter  ? " 

"  I  '11  see.  Say,  Ward,  do  you  think  you  could  shave 
off  those  whiskers  if  I  got  everything  ready  for  you  ?  I 
don't  like  you  to  look  like  old  Sourdough.  Or  maybe 
I  could  do  it.  I  —  I  used  to  shave  daddy  's  neck,  some- 
times." 

Ward  ran  his  fingers  thoughtfully  over  his  hairy 
cheeks.  "  I  expect  I  do  look  like  a  prehistoric  ancestor. 
I  '11  see  what  I  can  do  about  it.  I  set  my  own  leg ;  I 
guess  I  can  shave  myself.  You  're  a  great  doctor,  Wil- 
hemina. You  knocked  that  cold  up  to  a  peak,  all  right. 
But  —  I  don't  believe  you  'd  better  tackle  barbering, 
my  dear  girl." 

Billy  Louise  pouted  her  lips  at  him.  She  could  af- 
ford to  pout  now:  Ward  was  so  like  himself  that  she 
did  not  worry  over  him  at  all.  She  also  felt  that  she 


308    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

could  afford  to  badger  him  into  telling  her  some  of 
the  things  she  wanted  to  know. 

"  Where  did  you  hang  Buck  ?  "  she  asked  naively. 

"  Huh  ?  "  Ward's  eyes  bored  into  hers  with  his  in- 
tent look,  trying  to  read  her  thoughts. 

"  Where  was  it  you  hanged  Buck  Olney?  " 

"  Nowhere.  I  put  the  fear  of  the  Lord  into  him, 
that 's  all.  How  did  you  hear  about  it  ?  " 

"  From  you."  Billy  Louise  was  maddeningly  calm. 
"  You  told  me  all  about  it  yesterday.  And  about  those 
cattle  in  the  corral  up  here.  I  found  them  yesterday 
myself,  Ward  —  only  it  seems  a  month  ago !  —  down 
in  the  Cove." 

"Did  you?" 

"  Yes,  and  .1  drove  them  up  to  the  corral  and  read 
the  riot  act  to  Marthy  and  Charlie  Fox  —  " 

"  Huh !     What  did  they  say  ?  " 

"  Oh,  they  denied  it,  of  course !  What  are  we  going 
to  do  about  it,  Ward  ? " 

"  Nothing,  I  guess.    What  did  you  want  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  don't  want  to  hurt  them,  and  I 
don't  want  them  to  hurt  anyone  else.  Do  you  know 
Seabeck  ?  He  's  an  awfully  square  old  fellow.  I  be- 
lieve — "  An  idea  formed  vaguely  in  the  back  of 
Billy  Louise 's  mind.  "  I  believe  I  could  persuade 
him  —  " 

"  I  believe  you  could  persuade  the  devil  himself,  if 
you  took  a  notion  to  try,"  Ward  affirmed  sincerely,  when 
she  hesitated.  "  What  do  you  want  to  persuade  him 
into?" 

"  Oh,  nothing,  I  guess !  How  do  you  feel,  Ward  ? 
We  've  got  to  stick  to  the  job  of  getting  you  fit  to  leave 


THE  WOLF  JOKE  309 

here  and  go  on  down  to  the  ranch  with  me.  When  do 
you  think  you  could  manage  to  ride  ?  " 

Ward  looked  longingly  out  of  the  window,  just  as  he 
had  been  looking  for  six  weeks.  "  I  think  I  could  man- 
age it  now,"  he  said  doggedly,  because  of  his-  great 
longing.  "  I  set  my  own  leg  —  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  'm  willing  to  admit  you  're  a  wonder, 
and  have  gotten  the  stoics  beaten  at  their  own  game. 
Still,  there  's  a  limit  to  what  the  human  body  will  stand. 
I  'rn  going  down  to  tend  the  horses,  and  if  you  think 
you  can  walk  without  hurting  your  leg,  I  '11  hunt  some 
forked  sticks  for  crutches.  We  '11  see  how  you  make  out 
with  them,  first,  before  we  talk  about  riding  twenty 
miles  on  horseback.  Besides,  you'd  catch  more  cold 
if  you  went  out  to-day." 

While  she  talked,  her  plans  took  definite  shape  in  the 
back  of  her  mind.  She  took  Buck  Olney's  knife  that 
was  lying  on  the  window-sill  and  went  in  search  of 
crutches  among  the  willows  along  the  creek.  Forked 
sticks  were  plentiful  enough,  but  it  was  not  so  easy  to 
find  two  that  would  support  even  so  skinny  a  man  as 
Ward.  She  compromised  by  cutting  four  that  seemed 
suitable  and  binding  them  together  in  couples. 

When  she  went  in  with  her  makeshifts,  Ward  was  sit- 
ting upon  the  side  of  the  bunk,  clothed  and  in  his  right 
mind  —  but  pitifully  wobbly  and  ashamed  of  his  weak- 
ness. 

"  You  should  n't  have  tried  to  get  up  yet,"  she 
scolded.  "  Do  you  want  to  be  worse,  so  I  '11  have  to 
cure  you  all  over  again  ?  "  Then,  woman-like,  she  pro- 
ceeded to  annul  the  effect  by  petting  and  sympathy. 

It  was  while  she  was  sitting  in  the  one  chair,  padding 


310   RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

the  sticks  crudely  enough  but  effectively,  that  Ward, 
gazing  at  her  with  the  light  of  love  in  his  eyes,  thought 
of  something  he  had  meant  to  tell  her. 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,  I  've  got  something  for  you,  Wil- 
hemina,"  he  said.  "  Put  down  that  thing  and  come 
over  here.  I  want  to  shave  before  I  take  a  try  at  walk- 
ing, anyway.  See  here,  lady-mine.  How  would  you 
like  these  strung  on  a  gold  chain  ?  " 

From  under  his  pillow  he  drew  out  a  tobacco  sack 
and  emptied  the  contents  into  her  palm.  "  Those  are 
your  Christmas  present,  Bill-Loo.  Like  'em  ?  " 

"  Do  I !  "  Billy  Louise  held  up  the  biggest  one  and 
stared  at  it  round-eyed.  "  Gold  nuggets !  Where  in 
the  world  —  " 

"  That 's  what  I  'm  going  to  tell  you  —  now  you  're 
through  being  just  pals.  Oh,  I  'd  have  told  you,  any- 
way, I  reckon,  only  the  play  never  came  right,  after 
that  first  little  squabble  we  had  over  it."  He  put  an 
arm  around  her,  pulled  her  down  beside  him,  and  rubbed 
his  bristly  chin  over  her  hair.  "  That 's  the  wolf  joke, 
William.  I  did  make  a  lot  of  money  wolfing  —  on  the 
square.  I  dug  out  a  den  of  pups  and  struck  a  little 
pocket  of  pretty  rich  gravel.  I  Ve  been  busy  panning 
it  out  all  the  time  I  could  spare,  till  the  creek  froze 
up." 

"  You  found  a  gold  mine  ?  "  Billy  Louise  gasped. 
"  Why,  whoever  would  have  thought  —  " 

"  Oh,  I  would  n't  call  it  a  gold  mine,  exactly,"  he 
hastened  to  assure  her,  before  her  imagination  dazzled 
her.  "  There  is  n't  enough  of  it.  It 's  just  a  pocket. 
I  Ve  cleaned  up  about  eighteen  hundred  dollars,  this 
summer,  besides  these  nuggets.  Maybe  more.  Ana 


THE  WOLF  JOKE  311 

there  's  some  left  yet.  I  found  both  ends  of  the  streak ; 
it  lies  along  a  ledge  on  the  side  of  a  gully.  I  could  n't 
find  anything  except  in  that  one  streak  of  gravel;  and 
when  that 's  gone  she  's  done,  as  near  as  I  can  figure. 
But  it  is  n't  all  gone  yet,  lady  mine.  There  's  e'nough 
left  to  pay  the  preacher,  anyway.  That  big  fellow 
I  found  along  toward  the  last,  just  before  I  quit  work- 
ing." He  kissed  her  gravely.  "  Poor  old  girl !  She  's 
dead  game,  all  right,  and  she  's  kind  of  had  the  cards 
stacked  against  her  from  the  start.  But  things  are 
going  to  come  easier  from  now  on,  if  I  'm  any  prophet. 
It 's  too  bad  —  " 

Billy  Louise  read  his  thought. 

"  Mommie  looked  so  peaceful,  Ward.  At  the  last, 
I  mean.  If  I  could  have  waked  her  up,  I  don't  believe 
I  'd  have  had  the  heart  to  do  it.  She  never  was  very 
happy ;  you  know  that.  She  could  n't  seem  to  see  the 
happiness  in  little  things.  So  many  are  like  that.  And 
she  looked  happier  —  at  the  last  —  than  I  ever  saw  her 
look  before.  So  —  I  'm  happier,  too  —  since  yester- 
day." 

"  Are  you  ? "  Ward  dropped  his  face  against  her 
hair  and  held  it  there  for  a  minute.  It  was  not  his 
cold  altogether  that  had  made  his  voice  break  hoarsely 
over  those  two  words. 

"  Do  you  know  —  "  Billy  Louise  was  lifting  the  nug- 
gets one  after  the  other  and  letting  them  drop  to  her 
lap  —  "  happiness  is  like  gold,  Ward.  We  Ve  got  to 
pan  it  out  of  life  ourselves.  If  we  try  to  steal  it  from 
someone  else,  we  pay  the  penalty,  don't  you  think  ?  And 
so  many  go  looking  and  looking  for  great  big  chunks 
of  it  all  —  all  —  whatever  they  do  to  it."  She  laughed 


312    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

a  little  at  her  ignorance  of  the  technical  process.    "  You 
see  what  I  mean,  don't  you  ?    We  get  a  streak  of  gravel ; 
that 's  life.    And  we  can  pan  out  happiness  if  we  try  - 
little  nuggets  and  sometimes  just  colors  —  but  it  keeps 
us  hoping  and  working." 

"  Doctor  of  philosophy !  "  Ward  kissed  her  hair. 
"  You  're  a  great  little  girl,  all  right.  And  I  'm  the 
buckaroo  that  has  struck  a  mighty  rich  streak  of  pay 
dirt  in  life,  Wilhemina.  I  'm  panning  out  happiness 
millions  to  the  pan  right  now." 

Billy  Louise,  attacked  with  a  spasm  of  shyness,  went 
abruptly  back  to  padding  the  makeshift  crutches  and 
changed  the  subject. 

"  I  'm  going  home,  soon  as  I  fix  you  comfy,"  she  said. 

Whereupon  Ward  protested  most  strenuously  and 
did  not  look  in  the  least  like  a  man  who  has  just  an- 
nounced himself  a  millionaire  in  happiness. 

"  What  for  ? "  he  demanded,  after  he  had  exhausted 
himself  to  no  purpose  in  telling  her  that  she  should 
not  leave  the  cabin  until  he  could  go  along. 

"  I  want  eggs  —  for  you,  you  ungrateful  beast.  And 
some  bread  for  toast.  And  I  want  to  tell  Phoebe 
and  John  where  I  am." 

"  You  think  those  Injuns  are  going  to  hurt  them- 
selves worrying?  I  don't  want  any  eggs  and  toast. 
I  've  managed  all  right  on  crackers  and  jerky  for  six 
weeks,  so  I  guess  I  can  stand  it  a  few  hours  longer. 
Still,  if  you  're  crazy  to  go  —  "  He  dropped  back  on 
the  pillow  and  turned  his  face. away. 

Billy  Louise  worked  silently  until  she  had  made  the 
crutches  as  soft  on  top  as  she  could.  Then  she  hunted 
for  Ward's  razor  and  shaving-cup  and  after  one  or  two 


THE  WOLF  JOKE  313 

failures  —  through  using  too  much  water  —  she  man- 
aged to  make  a  cup  of  very  nice  lather. 

"  !N"ow,  buckaroo,  don't  be  a  sulky  kid,"  she  said, 
firmly  as  she  could.  "  You  know  it 's  hard  enough  for 
me  to  go  off  and  leave  you  here  like  this.  But,  as  you 
say,  you  've  managed  to  get  along  for  six  weeks  with- 
out me,  so  —  " 

"  Sure.  I  could  do  it  again,  I  reckon."  Ward  turned 
a  gloomy  pair  of  eyes  upon  her.  "  What 's  the  rush  f 
Do  you  think  it  is  n't  proper  —  " 

"  It 's  always  proper  to  do  what  is  right  and  help- 
ful and  kind,"  said  Billy  Louise  with  dignity,  because 
she  had  made  up  her  mind  and  was  trying  not  to 
weaken.  "  I  've  lived  in  this  country  all  my  life,  and 
I  guess  my  reputation  will  stand  this  little  strain,"  she 
went  on  lightly,  "  even  if  anyone  finds  it  out.  I  Ve 
got  to  go,  that 's  all.  Those  people  in  the  Cove  —  " 
It  was  eloquent  of  her  stern  justice  that  she  could  not 
bring  herself  to  speak  them  by  name. 

"  You  are  n't  going  to  turn  them  over  to  the  sheriff, 
are  you,  William  ?  Good  Lord,  girl  \  If  I  can  —  " 

"  Your  lather  is  getting  cold,"  Billy  Louise  said 
evenly.  "  I  ought  to  have  known  better  than  mention 
the  subject  at  all.  I  'm  going  to  do  what 's  right.  I 
believe  I  have  some  faint  idea  of  right  and  wrong, 
Ward  Warren.  And  I  'm  not  going  to  do  anything 
that  I  don't  feel  is  right,  or  anything  that  I  '11  be 
sorry  for.  You  might  trust  me,  I  think.  It's  early 

yet  —  " 

"  You  '11  come  back  before  night,  won't  you  ?  "  From 
his  tone,  Ward  had  yielded  the  point  —  and  was  minded 
to  yield  with  what  graciousness  he  could  command.  It 


314    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

had  occurred  to  him  that  he  was  behaving  like  a  self- 
ish booby.  Billy  Louise  should  not  call  him  weak-kneed, 
whatever  happened. 

"  No,  I  don't  think  I  can,  Ward.  I  might  send 
John." 

"  You  need  n't  bother.     I  don't  want  John." 

"  Well,  I  don't  suppose  he  would  be  much  comfort. 
I  '11  make  a  pot  of  coffee,  Ward,  and  I  '11  fill  the  lan- 
tern and  fix  it  so  you  can  heat  a  cup  when  you  want 
to ;  how  will  that  be  ?  "  She  brightened  a  little  at  the 
idea.  "  And  I  '11  fix  your  lungs  up  again  before  I  go 
and  bake  some  nice,  hot  biscuits  and  put  here,  and  but- 
ter, and  fix  you  just  as  comfy  as  possible.  Or,  if  you 
can  manage  to  get  around  with  the  crutches,  all  the 
better.  I  '11  leave  things  so  you  won't  have  to  go  out- 
side for  a  thing. 

"  And,  Ward  "  —  she  bent  over  him  anxiously  — 
"  I  'm  going  because  I  must.  For  all  our  sakes  I 
must  go  right  away.  And  I  '11  come  back  to-morrow 
just  as  early  as  I  can  get  here.  So  if  you  are  real 
good,  and  take  care  of  your  cold,  and  get  a  little  strong 
about  walking,  you  can  go  back  with  me.  And  to- 
morrow night  you  can  sit  in  daddy's  chair  before  the 
fireplace,  and  we  '11  have  chicken  and  — ' 

"  All  right  —  all  right !  "  Ward  laughed  suddenly. 
"  Will  you  give  me  a  lump  of  sugar  and  let  me  look 
at  all  the  pitty  pittys  in  the  album  ?  Oh,  you  William 
the  Conqueror !  "  He  caught  her  close,  when  he  saw 
that  he  had  hurt  her  feelings  a  little,  and  held  her  a 
minute.  "  When  I  get  two  good  legs  under  me,  Wil- 
hemina,"  he  promised  softly,  "  I  'm  going  to  stake  my- 
self to  the  job  of  taking  care  of  you.  Your  cheeks  are 


THE  WOLF  JOKE  315 

pretty  thin,  little  lady-girl.  Damn  the  luck,  any- 
way!" 

"  Here  's  the  lather.  I  'm  going  down  and  saddle  up," 
said  Billy  Louise.  "  When  I  come  back,  we  '11  see  how 
the  crutches  work." 

"  Oh,  say !  "  Ward  called  after  her.  "  My  saddle  's 
behind  a  buck  bush  up  along  the  trail  where  the  bank 
is  cut  straight.  I  forgot  about  that.  And  would  you 
mind  bringing  the  looking-glass,  William?  How  the 
deuce  do  you  think  a  man  's  going  to  shave  without 
a  glass?  And  that  old  paper  to  wipe  the  lather  on, 
while  you  're  at  it.  I  see  the  Billy  of  you  has  n't  got 
to  the  shaving-point  yet,  at  any  rate !  " 

Billy  Louise  took  down  the  glass  and  flung  it  on 
the  bed,  threw  the  newspaper  after  it,  and  departed 
with  her  chin  in  the  %air  to  find  his  saddle  and  bridle 
and  carry  them  to  the  stable. 

Ward,  sitting  up  in  bed,  stared  at  the  closed  door 
remorsefully.  WThen  he  was  convinced  that  she  did  not 
intend  to  return  even  for  the  last  word  which  is  so 
tempting  to  a  woman,  he  reached  for  the  glass,  held 
it  up,  and  looked  within. 

"  Sufferin'  saddle  blankets !  "  he  grunted  and  dropped 
the  glass.  "  And  she  could  kiss  a  mug  like  that !  " 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

"HM-MM!" 

FLOYD  CARSON  was  a  somewhat  phlegmatic 
young  man,  but  he  swore  an  astonished  oath  when 
he  saw  Billy  Louise  galloping  along  the  lane  that  led 
nowhere  except  to  the  womanless  abode  of  Samuel  Sea- 
beck.  He  walked  very  fast  to  the  stable,  which  was 
the  first  logical  stopping-place,  and  so  he  met  Billy 
Louise  before  she  had  time  to  dismount,  even  suppos- 
ing she  intended  to  do  so. 

"  Hello,  Floyd !  Is  Mr.  Seabeck  at  home  ?  "  Billy 
Louise  was  not  one  to  waste  time  in  the  superfluities 
of  speech  when  she  had  anything  on  her  mind. 

"  Sure.  Get  off,  and  I  '11  put  up  your  horse.  We  're 
just  through  eatin',  but  our  grub  carpenter  will  rustle 
something  for  yuh,  all  right." 

"  No,  I  can't  stop  this  time.  I  'm  not  hungry,  any- 
way. Just  give  a  yell  for  Mr.  Seabeck,  will  you?  I 
want  to  see  him  a  minute." 

Floyd  eyed  her  uncertainly,  decided  that  Billy  Louise 
was  not  in  the  mood  to  yield  to  persuasion,  and  tact- 
fully hurried  off  to  find  Seabeek  without  shouting  for 
him  —  lest  he  bring  others  also,  who  were  evidently  not 
wanted  at  all.  He  took  it  that  Billy  Louise  felt  some 
diffidence  about  visiting  a  strictly  bachelor  outfit,  and 
he  set  himself  to  relieve  her  of  any  embarrassment. 

Presently  Seabeck  himself  came  from  the  dirt-roofed, 


"HM-MM!"  317 

rambling  cabin  which  was  his  home  and  strode  down 
the  path,  buttoning  his  coat  as  he  came.  Floyd's  face 
showed  for  a  minute  in  the  doorway  before  he  effaced 
himself  completely,  and  not  another  man  was  in  sight 
anywhere.  Billy  Louise  was  grateful  to  circumstance; 
she  had  dreaded  this  visit,  though  not  for  the  reason 
Floyd  Carson  believed. 

"  How  de  do,  Miss  MacDonald  ?  Pretty  nice  day, 
but  I  'm  afraid  it 's  a  weather-breeder.  The  wind  's  try- 
ing to  change,  I  notice." 

"  Yes,  and  so  I  must  n't  stop.  Could  you  ride  part 
way  home  with  me,  Mr.  Seabeck  ?  I  —  want  to  talk 
with  you  about  something.  And  I  can't  stop  a  min- 
ute. I  must  get  home." 

"  Why,  certainly,  I  '11  go.  If  you  '11  wait  just  a  min- 
ute while  I  saddle  up  —  or  if  you  'd  rather  ride  on,  I  '11 
overtake  you." 

"  I  '11  ride  on,  I  think.  Blue  hates  standing  around, 
and  he  's  a  little  warm,  too.  You  're  awfully  good,  Mr. 
Seabeck  —  " 

"  Oh,  not  at  all !  "  Seabeck  stubbed  his  toe  on  the 
stable  doorsill  in  his  confusion  at  the  praise.  "  I  '11  be 
right  along,  soon  as  I  can  slap  a  saddle  on."  He  disap- 
peared, and  Billy  Louise  turned  and  loped  slowly  down 
the  lane. 

So  far,  so  good.  Billy  Louise  tried  to  believe  that 
it  was  all  going  to  be  as  plain  sailing  as  this  fortuitous 
beginning,  but  she  was  aware  of  a  nervous  fluttering 
in  her  throat  while  she  waited,  and  she  knew  that  she 
positively  dreaded  hearing  Seabeck  gallop  up  behind 
her  on  the  frozen  trail.  "  Why  will  people  do  things 
that  make  a  lot  of  trouble  for  others  ? "  she  cried  out 


318    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

petulantly.  And  then  she  heard  the  steady  pluck, 
pluckety-pluck  of  Seabeck's  horse,  and  twisted  her  lips 
with  a  whimsical  acceptance  of  the  part  she  had  set 
herself  to  play.  She  might  smash  things,  she  told 
herself,  but  at  the  worst  it  would  be  only  a  premature 
smash.  "  Come,  Bill,"  she  adjured  herself,  pretending 
it  was  what  Ward  would  have  said,  had  he  looked  into 
her  mind.  "  Be  a  Bill-the-Conk  —  and  a  good  one ! 
Shove  in  your  chips  and  play  for  all  there  is  in  it." 

"  You  must  have  some  lightning  method  of  saddling, 
Mr.  Seabeck,"  she  smiled  over  her  shoulder  at  him  when 
he  came  up. 

"  We  learn  to  do  things  quick  when  we  've  handled 
cattle  a  few  years,"  he  admitted.  He  had  a  diffident 
manner  of  receiving  compliments  which  pleased  Billy 
Louise  and  gave  her  confidence  a  needed  brace.  She 
was  not  a  skilled  coquette;  she  was  too  honest  and  too 
straightforward  for  that.  Still,  nature  places  certain 
weapons  in  the  hands  of  a  woman,  and  instinct  shows 
her  how  to  use  them.  Seabeck,  from  his  very  unac- 
customedness  to  women,  seemed  to  her  particularly 
pliable.  Billy  Louise  took  her  courage  in  both  hands 
and  went  straight  to  the  point. 

"  Mr.  Seabeck,  I  've  always  heard  that  you  're  an 
awfully  square  man,"  she  said.  "  Daddy  seemed  to 
think  that  you  could  be  depended  on  in  any  kind  of  a 
pinch.  I  hope  it 's  true.  I  'm  banking  a  lot  on  your 
squareness  to-day." 

"  Why,  I  don't  know  about  my  being  any  better  than 
my  neighbors,"  he  said,  with  a  twinkle  of  humor  in 
his  eyes,  which  were  a  bright,  unvarying  blue.  "  But 
you  can  bank  on  my  doing  anything  I  can  for  you,  Miss 


"HM-MM!"  319 

MacDonald.  I  think  I  could  be  even  better  than 
square  —  to  help  a  plucky  little  girl  who  —  " 

"  I  don't  mean  just  the  ordinary  squareness,"  Billy 
Louise  put  in  quietly.  "  I  mean  bigness,  too ;  a  big- 
ness that  will  make  a  man  be  more  than  square ;  .a  big- 
ness that  will  let  him  see  all  around  a  thing  and  judge 
it  from  a  bigger  viewpoint  than  mere  justice  —  " 

"  Hm-mm  —  if  you  could  trust  me  enough  to  —  " 

"  I  'm  going  to,  Mr.  Seabeck.  I  'm  going  to  take  it 
for  granted  you  're  bigger  than  your  own  squareness. 
And  if  you  're  not  —  if  you  're  just  a  selfish,  weak, 
letter-perfect,  honest  man,  I  '11  —  feel  like  —  thrashing 
you."  Without  a  doubt  that  was  the  Billy  of  her 
which  spoke. 

"  I  '11  take  the  thrashing  if  you  think  I  need  it," 
he  promised,  looking  at  her  with  something  more  than 
admiration.  "  What  have  you  done,  Miss  MacDonald  ? 
If  I  can  help  you  hide  the  body  —  " 

"  There !  "  Billy  Louise  dared  to  wrinkle  her  nose 
at  him  —  and  I  don't  know  which  of  her  did  it.  "  I 
knew  you  'd  play  up  like  a  good  sport.  But  what  if  it 
is  n't  a  body  ?  What  if  —  what  if  you  found  some 
of  your  cattle  with  —  with  a  big  D  —  run  over  your 
brand  ?  "  She  had  a  perfectly  white  line  around  her 
mouth  and  nostrils  then,  but  she  faced  him  squarely. 

"  Hm-mm !  "  Seabeck  gave  her  a  quick,  sidewise 
glance  and  pulled  thoughtfully  at  the  graying  whiskers 
that  pointed  his  chin.  "  I  would  have  been  glad  to 
lend  you  money,  or  help  you  in  any  way." 

"  Yes,  I  know."  Billy  Louise  snapped  her  reins  im- 
patiently. "  But  what  would  you  do  about  the  — 
cattle  ? " 


320    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

"  What  could  I  do  ?  What  would  you  want  me  to 
do?  I  should  do  whatever  would  help  you.  I 
would  —  " 

"  Wpuld  you  —  be  as  ready  to  help  somebody  else  ? 
Somebody  I  —  thought  a  —  lot  —  of  ?  " 

Seabeck,  evidently,  saw  light.  He  cleared  his  throat 
and  spat  gravely  into  a  bush.  "  I  see  you  don't  trust 
me,  after  all,"  he  said. 

"  I  do.  I  've  got  to ;  I  mean,  I  'd  have  to  whether  I 
did  or  not.  It 's  like  this,  Mr.  Seabeck.  It  is  n't  the 
big  D  brand ;  of  course  you  knew  it  could  n't  be.  But 
it  isn't  yours,  either.  Someone  was  tempted  and  was 
weak.  They  're  sorry  now.  They  want  to  do  the  right 
thing,  and  it  rests  with  you  whether  they  can  do  it. 
You  can  shut  them  up  in  jail  if  you  like;  you  have 
a  perfect  right  to  do  it.  Some  men  would  do  that 
and  be  able  to  sleep  after  it,  I  suppose.  But  I  be- 
lieve you  're  bigger  than  that.  I  believe  you  're  big 
enough  to  see  that  if  a  person  goes  wrong  and  then 
sees  the  mistake  and  wants  to  pull  back  into  the  straight 
trail,  a  man  —  even  the  one  who  has  been  wronged  — 
would  be  committing  a  moral  crime  to  prevent  it.  To 
take  a  person  who  wants  to  make  a  fresh,  honest  start, 
and  shut  that  person  up  amongst  criminals  and  brand 
him  as  a  criminal,  seems  to  me  a  worse  wrong  than  to 
steal  a  few  head  of  cattle;  don't  you  think  so,  Mr. 
Seabeck?" 

What  Mr.  Seabeck  thought  did  not  immediately  ap- 
pear in  speech.  He  was  pulling  a  little  harder  at  his 
whiskers  and  staring  at  the  ears  of  his  horse. 

"  That  would  depend  on  the  person,"  he  said  at  last. 
"  Some  men  are  born  criminals." 


"HM-MM!"  321 

"  Oh,  we  are  n't  talking  about  that  kind  of  a  man. 
Surely  to  goodness  you  don't  call  Charlie  Fox  a  born 
criminal,  or  Marthy  Meilke  ?  " 

"  Charlie  Fox !  Is  that  the  person  you  mean,  who 
has  been  —  " 

"  Yes,  it  is !  And  he  is  horribly  sorry,  and  so  is 
Marthy,  and  they  '11  pay  you  for  the  cattle.  And  if 
you  do  anything  mean  about  it,  it  will  simply  kill  poor 
old  Marthy.  You  could  n't  send  her  to  the  pen,  Mr. 
Seabeck.  Think  how  she  's  worked  there  in  the  Cove ; 
and  Charlie  has  worked  like  a  perfect  slave;  and  he 
was  trying  to  get  a  start  so  he  —  could  —  get  mar- 
ried —  " 

"  Hm-mm !  "  Eumors  had  reached  Seabeck,  thanks 
to  Billy  Louise's  dropped  lashes  upon  a  certain  occa- 
sion, which  caused  him  to  believe  he  saw  further 
light. 

"  And  if  you  're  going  to  be  horrid  —  " 

"  Will  the  —  lady  he  wants  to  marry  give  him  an- 
other chance  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  think  she  ought  to  —  if  she  1-loves  him  ?  " 
Billy  Louise  studied  the  skyline  upon  the  side  farthest 
from  Seabeck. 

'"  You  say  he  wants  to  pay  for  the  cattle  and  —  " 

"  He  '11  do  anything  he  can  to  make  amends,"  said 
Billy  Louise,  with  conviction.  a  He  '11  take  his  medi- 
cine and  go  to  jail  if  you  insist,"  she  added  sorrow- 
fully. "  It  will  ruin  his  whole  life,  of  course,  and 
break  a  couple  of  women's  hearts,  but  —  " 

"  It 's  a  bad  thing,  a  mighty  bad  thing,  when  a  man 
tries  to  get  ahead  too  fast." 

"  It 's  a  good  thing  when  he  learns  the  lesson  with- 


322    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

out  having  to  pay  for  it  with  his  whole  future,"  Billy 
Louise  amended  the  statement. 

Seabeck  smiled  a  little  behind  his  fingers  that  kept 
tugging  at  his  whiskers.  , 

"  Did  Charlie  Fox  send  Miss  Portia  —  " 

"  He  does  n't  know  I  had  any  intention  of  coming/' 
Billy  Louise  assured  him  quickly  and  with  perfect 
truth.  "  They  '11  both  be  awfully  surprised  when  they 
find  it  out  "  —  which  was  also  perfectly  true  —  "  and 
when  they  see  you  ride  up,  they  '11  think  you  Ve  got 
the  sheriff  at  your  back.  I  have  n't  a  doubt  they  —  " 

"  There  are  a  few  points  I  'd  like  to  clear  up,  if  you 
can  help  me,"  Seabeck  interrupted.  "  All  this  rustling 
that  has  been  going  on  for  the  past  year  and  a  half: 
are  Fox  and  the  Meilke  woman  mixed  up  in  that?  I 
want,"  he  said,  "  to  help  the  young  man  —  and  her. 
But  if  they  have  been  operating  on  a  large  scale,  I  'm 
afraid  —  " 

"  I  believe  Charlie  must  have  been  influenced  in  some 
ways  by  bad  acquaintances,"  Billy  Louise  answered 
more  steadily  than  she  felt.  "  But  his  —  rustling  — 
has  been  of  a  petty  kind.  I  won't  apologize  for  him, 
Mr.  Seabeck.  I  think  it 's  perfectly  awful,  what  he 
has  done.  But  I  think  it  would  be  more  awful  still 
not  to  give  him  a  chance.  The  other  rustling  is  some 
outside  gang,  I  'm  sure.  If  Charlie  was  mixed  up 
with  them,  it 's  very  slightly  —  just  enough  to  damn 
him  utterly  if  he  were  arrested  and  tried.  He  is  n't  a 
natural  criminal.  He  's  just  weak.  And  he  's  learned 
his  lesson.  It 's  up  to  you,  Mr.  Seabeck,  to  say  whether 
he  shall  have  a  chance  to  profit  by  the  lesson.  And 
there  's  poor  old  Marthy  in  it,  too.  She  just  worships 


"HM-MM!"  323 

Charlie  and  would  do  anything  —  even  steal  for 
him." 

Seabeck  meditated  for  a  mile,  and  Billy  Louise 
watched  him  uneasily  from  the  tail  of  her  eye.  To 
tell  the  plain  truth,  she  was  in  a  panic  of  fear  at  what 
she  had  done.  It  had  looked  so  simple  and  so  prac- 
ticable when  she  had  planned  it;  and  now  when  the 
words  were  out  and  the  knowledge  had  reached  Sea- 
beck  and  was  beyond  her  control,  she  could  not  think 
of  any  good  reason  for  telling  him. 

Last  night,  when  she  lay  curled  up  by  the  stove  un- 
der *  Ward's  wolf-skin  coat,  this  seemed  the  only  pos- 
sible way  out:  To  tell  Seabeck  and  trust  to  his  kind- 
ness and  generosity  to  refrain  from  pushing  the  case. 
To  have  Charlie  Fox  give  back  what  he  had  stolen 
or  pay  for  it  —  anything  that  would  satisfy  Seabeck's 
sense  of  justice  —  and  let  him  start  honestly.  She 
had  thought  that  Seabeck  would  be  merciful,  if  she 
told  him  in  the  right  way;  but  now,  when  she  stole 
a  glance  at  his  bent,  brooding  face,  she  was  fright- 
ened. He  did  not  look  merciful,  but  stern  and  angry. 
She  remembered  then  that  stealing  cattle  is  the  one 
crime  a  cattleman  finds  it  hard  to  forgive. 

Billy  Louise  might  have  spared  herself  some  mental 
anguish  if  she  could  have  known  that  Seabeck  was 
brooding  over  the  wonder  of  a  woman's  love  that  par- 
dons and  condones  a  man's  sins.  He  was  wishing  that 
such  a  love  as  Billy  Louise's  had  come  to  him,  and 
ho  was  wondering  how  a  man  could  be  tempted  to  go 
wrong  when  such  a  girl  loved  him.  He  was  laboring 
under  a  misapprehension,  of  course.  Billy  Louise  had 
permitted  him  to  misunderstand  her  interest  in  the 


324    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

matter.  If  he  had  known  that  she  was  pleading  solely 
for  Marthy  —  poor,  avaricious,  gray,  old  Marthy  — 
perhaps  his  mercy  would  have  been  less  tinged  with 
that  smoldering  resentment  which  was  directed  not  «o 
much  at  the  wrongdoer,  as  at  fate  which  had  cheated 
him. 

"I'm  glad  you  came  and  told  me  this,"  he  said  at 
last.  "  Very  glad,  indeed,  Miss  MacDonald.  Certain 
steps  have  been  taken  lately  to  push  this  —  wipe  out 
this  rustling  and  general  lawlessness,  and  if  you  had 
not  told  me,  I  'm  afraid  the  mills  of  justice  would 
have  ground  your  —  friends.  Of  course  the  law  would 
be  merciful  to  Mrs.  Meilke.  No  jury  would  send  an 
old  woman  like  that  —  By  the  way,  that  breed  they 
have  had  working  for  them  —  he  is  in  the  deal,  too;  1 
take  it." 

"  Yes,  of  course.  They  had  to  have  someone  to  help. 
Marthy  can't  do  any  riding."  Billy  Louise  spoke  with 
a  dreary  apathy  that  betrayed  how  the  reaction  had  set 
in.  "  She  stayed  in  the  Cove,  in  case  anyone  came 
prowling  down  there.  It  seems  there  's  a  wire  fastened 
to  the  gate,  and  it  rings  a  bell  down  at  the  house 
somewhere  when  the  gate  is  opened.  And  besides  that 
she  had  a  dog  that  would  tackle  strangers.  I  don't 
believe,"  she  went  on,  after  a  little  silence,  il  that 
Marthy  would  have  turned  dishonest  for  herself.  She 
was  grasping,  and  all  she  cared  for  was  getting  ahead. 
It  —  sort  of  grew  on  her,  after  the  years  of  trying 
to  dig  a  bare  living  out  of  the  ground.  I  —  can  un- 
derstand that;  and  I  can  see  how  she  would  go  to  any 
length  almost  for  —  Charlie.  But  —  " 

"  Well,  let 's  not  think  any  more  about  them  until 


"HM-MM!"  325 

we  have  to."  There  was  a  certain  crude  attempt  at 
soothing  her  anxieties.  "  You  Jve  trusted  me,  Miss  Mac- 
Donald.  I  '11  try  and  not  disappoint  you  in  the  mat- 
ter, though,  unless  they  are  quite  separate  from  the 
gang  which  is  being  run  down,  it  may  be  hard -to  pro- 
tect them.  Do  you  know  —  whether  —  any  other  cow- 
man has  suffered  from  their  —  mm-mm  —  haste  to  get 
rich?" 

"  I  don't  think  there  's  anyone  but  you,"  Billy  Louise 
replied  lifelessly. 

"  Hm-mm  —  do  you  know,  Miss  MacDonald,  whether 
there  was  any  intimacy  between  —  your  friends  —  and 
the  man  we  had  for  stock  inspector,  Mr.  Olney  ?  " 

"I  —  can't  say,  as  to  that."  Billy  Louise,  you  see, 
did  not  know  much  about  details,  but  the  little  she  did 
know  made  her  hedge. 

"  There  's  a  queer  story  about  Olney.  You  know  he 
has  left  the  country,  don't  you  ?  It  seems  he  rode  very 
hurriedly  up  to  the  depot  at  Wilmer  to  take  the  train. 
Just  as  he  stepped  on,  a  fellow  who  knew  him  by  sight 
noticed  a  piece  of  paper  pinned  on  the  back  of  his  coat. 
He  jerked  it  loose.  It  was  a  —  m-m  —  very  peculiar 
document  for  a  man  to  be  wearing  on  his  back."  Sea- 
beck  pulled  at  his  whiskers,  but  it  was  not  the  pulling 
which  quirked  the  corners  of  his  lips.  "  The  man  said 
Olney  seemed  greatly  upset  over  something  and  had 
evidently  forgotten  the  paper  until  he  felt  it  being  pulled 
loose.  He  said  Olney  looked  back  then,  and  he  was 
the  color  of  a  pork-rind.  The  train  was  pulling  out. 
The  man  took  the  paper  over  to  a  saloon  and  let  sev- 
eral others  read  it.  They  —  mm-mm  —  decided  that 
it  should  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  authorities. 


326    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Have  —  m-m  —  your  —  friends  ever  mentioned  the 
matter  to  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Billy  Louise,  and  her  eyes  were  wide. 

"  Hm-mm !  We  must  discover,  if  we  can,  Miss  Mac- 
Donald,  whether  they  are  in  any  way  implicated  with 
this  man  Olney.  I  believe  that  this  is  at  present  more 
important  than  the  recovery  of  any  —  m-m  —  cattle  of 
mine  which  they  may  have  appropriated." 

Billy  Louise  looked  at  him  for  a  minute.  "  Mr. 
Seabeck,  you  're  awfully  dear  about  this !  "  she  told 
him.  "  I  have  n't  been  as  square  as  you ;  and  I  've 
been  —  Listen  here,  Mr.  Seabeck !  I  don't  love  Char- 
lie Fox  a  bit.  I  love  somebody  else,  and  I  'm  going 
to  marry  him.  He  's  so  square,  I  'd  hate  to  have  him 
think  I  even  let  you  believe  something  that  was  n't  true. 
It 's  Marthy  I  'm  thinking  of,  Mr.  Seabeck.  I  was 
afraid  you  would  n't  let  Charlie  off  just  for  her  sake, 
but  I  thought  maybe  if  you  just  thought  I  —  wanted 
you  to  do  it  for  mine,  why,  maybe  —  with  two  women 
to  be  sorry  for,  you  'd  kind  of  —  " 

"Hm-mm!."  Seabeck  sent  her  a  keen,  blue,  twin- 
kling glance  that  made  Billy  Louise  turn  hot  all  over 
with  shame  and  penitence.  "  Hm-mm !  "  he  said  again 
—  if  one  can  call  that  a  saying  —  and  pulled  at  his"  gray- 
ing whiskers.  "  Hm-mmm !  " 


CHAPTEE  XXVII 

MAETHY 

BILLY  LOUISE  led  the  way  down  the  gorge, 
'through  the  meadow,  and  along  the  orchard  to  the 
little  gate.  The  Cove  seemed  empty  and  rather  forlorn, 
with  the  wind  creeping  up  the  river  and  rattling  the 
dry  branches  of  the  naked  fruit  trees.  Not  much  more 
than  twenty-four  hours  had  slid  into  the  past  since 
Billy  Louise  had  galloped  away  from  the  place,  yet 
she  felt  vaguely  that  life  had  taken  a  big  stride  here 
since  she  last  saw  it.  Nothing  was  changed,  though, 
as  far  as  she  could  see.  A  few  cattle  fed  in  the  meadow 
next  the  river,  a  fattening  hog  lifted  himself  from  his 
bed  of  straw  and  grunted  at  them  as  they  passed.  A 
few  chickens  were  hunting  fishworms  in  the  thawed 
places  of  the  garden,  and  a  yellow  cat  ran  creepingly 
along  the  top  rail  of  the  nearest  corral,  crouched  there 
with  digging  claws  and  pounced  down  into  a  flock  of 
snowbirds.  A  drift  of  dead  apple  leaves  stirred  un- 
easily beside  the  footpath  through  the  berry  bushes. 
Billy  Louise  started  nervously  and  glanced  over  her 
shoulder  at  Seabeck.  For  some  reason  she  wanted  the 
comfort  of  his  presence.  She  waited  until  he  came 
up  to  her  —  tall,  straight  like  a  soldier,  and  silent  as 
the  Cove  itself. 

"  I  'm  —  scared,"  said  Billy  Louise.     She  did  not 


328    RANCH  AT      HE  WOLVERINE 


smile  either  when  she  said  it.    "I  —  hate  empty-feeling 
places.     I'm  —  afraid  of  emptiness." 

"  Yet  you  are  always  riding  alone  in  the  hills."  Sea- 
beck  looked  down  at  her  with  a  puzzled  expression  in 
his  eyes. 

"  The  hills  are  n't  empty,"  she  told  him  impatiently. 
"  They  're  just  big  and  quiet.  This  is  —  "  She  flung 
out  a  hand  and  did  not  try  to  find  a  word  for  what 
she  felt. 

"  Shall  I  go  first  ?    I  thought  you  would  rather  — 

"  I  would."  Billy  Louise  pulled  herself  together, 
angry  at  her  sudden  impulse  to  run,  as  she  had  run 
from  Ward's  quiet  cabin.  She  remembered  that  un- 
reasoning panic  —  was  it  really  only  yesterday  ?  —  and 
went  steadily  up  the  path  and  across  the  little  ditch 
which  Marthy  had  dug.  Why  must  sordid  trouble 
and  dull  misery  hang  over  a  beauty-spot  like  this  ?  $he 
thought  resentfully. 

She  stopped  for  a  minute  on  the  doorstep,  hesitat- 
ing before  she  opened  the  door.     Behind  her,  Seabeck 
drew  close  as  if  he  would  shield  her  from  something; 
perhaps  he,  too,  felt  the  deadly  quiet  and  emptiness  of* 
the  place. 

Billy  Louise  opened  the  door  and  stepped  into  the 
kitchen.  She  stopped  and  stood  still,  so  that  her  slim 
figure  would  have  hidden  the  interior  from  the  eyes 
of  Seabeck  had  he  not  been  so  tall.  As  it  was,  she  barred 
his  way  so  that  he  must  stand  on  the  step  outside. 

By  the  kitchen  table,  with  her  elbows  on  the  soiled 
oilcloth,  sat  Marthy.  Her  uncombed  hair  hung  in 
wisps  about  her  head  ;  her  hard  old  face  was  lined  and 
gray,  her  hard  eyes  dull  with  brooding.  Billy  Louise, 


MARTHY  329 

staring  at  her  from  the  doorway,  knew  that  Marthy  had 
been  sitting  like  that  for  a  long,  long  time. 

She  went  over  to  her  diffidently.  Hesitatingly  she 
laid  her  gauntleted  hand  on  Marthy 's  stooped  shoul- 
der. She  did  not  say  anything.  Marthy  did  not  move 
under  her  touch,  except  to  turn  her  dull  glance  upon 
Seabeck,  standing  there  on  the  doorstep. 

"  C'm  in,"  she  said  stolidly.  "  What  'd  yuh  come 
ferf" 

"  Miss  MacDonald  will  perhaps  explain  —  " 

"  She  ain't  got  nothin'  to  explain,"  said  hard  old 
Marthy  with  grim  finality.  "  I  '11  do  what  explaining 
to  be  done.  C'm  in.  Don't  stand  there  like  a  stump. 
And  shut  the  door.  It 's  cold  as  a  barn  here,  any- 
way." 

"  Oh,  Marthy !  "  cried  Billy  Louise,  with  the  sound 
of  tears  in  her  voice. 

"  Don't  oh  Marthy  me,"  said  the  harsh  voice  flatly. 
"  I  don't  want  no  Marthyin'  nor  no  sympathy.  Well, 
old  man,  you  're  here  to  colleck,  I  s'pose.  Take  what 's 
in  sight ;  'tain't  none  of  it  yourn,  far  's  I  know,  but 
anything  you  claim  you  kin  have,  fer  all  me.  I  've  lived 
honest  all  my  days  an'  worked  fer  what  I  got.  I  've 
harbored  thieves  in  my  old  age  and  trusted  them  that 
wa'  n't  fit  to/ be  trusted.  I  Ve  allus  paid  my  debts,  Sea- 
beck.  I  'm  willin'  to  pay  now  fer  bein'  a  fool." 

"  W-where  's  Charlie  ?  "  Billy  Louise  leaned  and 
whispered  the  question. 

"  I  d'  no,  and  I  don't  care.  He  's  pulled  out  —  him 
an'  that  breed.  I  '11  have  t'  pay  yuh  for  seven  growed 
cattle  I  never  seen  till  yist'day,  Seabeck.  You  can  set 
yer  own  price  on  'em.  I  ain't  sure,  but  I  've  got  an 


330   RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

idee  they  was  shot  las'  night  an'  dumped  in  the  river. 
You  c'n  set  yer  price.  I  've  got  rheumatiz  so  bad  I 
could  n't  go  V  put  a  stop  to  nothin'  —  but  — 

"  Oh,  Marthy !  "  Billy  Louise  was  shivering  and 
crying  now.  "  Marthy !  Don't  be  so  —  so  hard.  It 
was  all  Charlie  —  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Marthy  harshly,  "  it  was  all  Charlie. 
He  was  a  thief,  an'  I  was  sech  a  simple-minded  old  fool 
I  never  knowed  what  he  was.  I  let  him  go  ahead,  an' 
I  set  in  the  house  with  a  white  apurn  tied  on  me  an' 
thought  I  was  havin'  an  easy  time.  I  set  here  and  let 
him  rob  my  neighbors  that  I  ain't  never  harmed  er 
cheated  out  of  a  cent,  and  soon  's  he  thought  he  was 
found  out,  he  —  left  ole  Marthy  to  look  after  herself. 
Never  so  much  as  fed  the  hogs  or  done  the  milkin' 
first !  Looky  here,  Seabeck !  You  '11  git  paid  back, 
an'  I  '11  take  your  figgers  fer  what  I  owe,  but  if  you 
git  after  Charlie,  I  '11  —  kill  yuh.  You  let  'im  go. 
I  'm  the  one  he  hurt  most  —  and  I  ain't  goin'  —  "  She 
laid  her  frowsy  old  head  on  her  arms,  like  one  who  is 
utterly  crushed  and  dumb. 

"  Oh,  Marthy !  "  Billy  Louise  knelt  and  threw  her 
arms  around  Marthy's  shoulders. 

"  You  've  got  to  come  and  lie  down,  Marthy,"  said 
Billy  Louise,  after  a  long,  unbroken  silence. 

"  Mr.  Seabeck,  if  you  '11  start  a  fire.  I  '11  make  some 
tea  for  her.  Come,  Marthy  —  just  to  please  me.  Do 
it  for  Billy  Louise,  Marthy." 

The  old  woman  rose  stiffly,  and  with  a  feebleness  that 
seemed  utterly  foreign  to  her  usual  energy,  permitted 
Billy  Louise  to  lead  her  from  the  kitchen.  In  the  sit- 
ting-room that  Charlie  had  built  and  furnished  for  her, 


MARTHY  331 

Marthy  lay  and  stared  around  her  with  that  same  dull 
apathy  she  had  shown  from  the  first.  Only  once  did 
she  manifest  any  real  emotion,  and  that  was  when  Billy 
Louise  came  in  with  some  tea  and  toast. 

"  You  take  all  them  books  outa  them  shelves  an'  burn 
'em  up,"  she  commanded.  "  An'  you  take  them  two 
pictures  off'n  that  shelf,  of  him  an'  her,  an'  bring 
'em  t'  me." 

Billy  Louise  set  the  toast  and  tea  down  on  a  chair  and 
brought  the  pictures.  She  did  not  say  a  word,  but  she 
looked  a  little  scared  and  her  eyes  were  very  big,  just 
as  they  had  been  when  Ward  mistook  her  for  Buck  Olney 
and  so  let  her  see  into  another  one  of  the  dark  places 
of  life.  It  seemed  to  Billy  Louise  that  she  was  being 
compelled  to  look  into  a  good  many  dark  places,  lately. 

Marthy  took  the  two  photographs  and  looked  at  the 
first  with  hatred.  "  The  Jezebel !  She  won't  git  to  run 
it  over  ole  Marthy,"  she  muttered  with  sullen  triumph 
and  twisted  the  cardboard  spitefully  in  her  gnarled  old 
fingers.  "  She  can't  come  here  an'  take  all  I  've  got 
an'  never  give  me  a  thankye  for  it.  I  'm  shet  uh  her, 
anyway."  She  twisted  again  and  yet  again,  till  the  pic- 
ture was  a  handful  of  ragged  scraps  of  cardboard.  Then 
she  raised  herself  to  an  elbow  and  flung  the  frag- 
ments far  from  her  and  lay  down  again  with  glum 
satisfaction. 

Her  fingers  touched  the  other  picture,  which  had  slid 
to  the  couch.  Mechanically  she  picked  it  up  and  held 
it  so  that  the  light  from  the  window  struck  it  full. 
This  was  Charlie's  face  —  Charlie  with  the  falsely 
frank  smile  in  his  eyes,  and  with  his  lips  curved  as 
they  did  when  he  was  just  going  to  say,  "  IsTow,  Aunt 


332    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Martha ! "  in  tender  protest  against  her  too  eager 
industry. 

Marthy's  chin  began  to  quiver  while  she  looked.  Her 
lips  sagged  with  the  pull  of  her  aching  heart.  For  the 
third  time  in  her  life  Billy  Louise  saw  big,  slow  tears 
gather  in  Marthy's  hard  blue  eyes  and  slide  down  the 
leathery  seams  in  her  cheeks.  Billy  Louise  looked, 
found  her  vision  blurring  with  her  own  tears,  and 
turned  and  tiptoed  from  the  room. 

Seabeck  was  gone  somewhere  on  his  horse.  Billy 
Louise  guessed  shrewdly  that  he  was  down  in  the 
meadows,  looking  over  the  cattle  and  trying  to  estimate 
the  extent  of  the  thievery.  She  put  Blue  in  the  stable 
and  fed  him,  with  that  half -mechanical  habit  of  attend- 
ing to  the  needs  of  one's  mount  which  becomes  second 
nature  to  the  range-bred.  She  would  not  go  on  to  the 
[Wolverine;  that  needed  no  decision;  she  accepted  it 
at  once  as  a  fact.  Marthy  needed  her  now  more  than 
anyone.  More  even  than  Ward,  though  Billy  Louise 
hated  to  think  of  him  up  there  alone  and  practically 
helpless.  But  Marthy  must  have  her  to-night.  Marthy 
was  facing  her  bitterest  sorrow  since  Minervy  died,  and 
Marthy  was  old.  Ward,  Billy  Louise  reminded  herself 
sternly,  was  not  old,  and  he  was  facing  happiness  — 
so  far  as  he  or  anyone  knew.  She  wanted  very  much 
to  be  with  Ward,  but  she  could  not  delude  her  con- 
science into  believing  that  he  needed  her  more  than  did 
Marthy. 

Seabeck  returned  after  awhile,  and  Billy  Louise,  who 
was  watching  from  the  doorway,  met  him  at  the  little 
gate  as  he  was  coming  up  to  the  house. 

"  Well,  how  bad   is   it,  Mr.   Seabeck  ? "   she   asked 


MARTHY  333 

sharply,  just  because  she  felt  the  imperative  need 
of  facts  —  she  who  had  struggled  so  long  in  the  quick- 
sands of  suspicion  and  doubts  and  fears  and  suspense. 

"  Hmm-mm  —  how  bad  is  it  —  in  the  house  ?  "  he 
countered.  "  The  real  crime  has  been  committed  there, 
it  seems  to  me.  A  few  head  of  cattle,  more  or  less, 
don't  count  for  much  against  the  broken  heart  of  an 
©Id  woman." 

"  Oh !  "  Billy  Louise,  her  hands  clenched  upon  the 
gate,  stared  up  wide-eyed  into  his  face.  And  this  was 
the  real  Seabeck,  whom  she  had  known  impersonally  all 
her  life!  This  was  the  real  man  of  him,  whom  she 
had  never  known;  a  flawless  diamond  of  a  soul  behind 
those  bright  blue  eyes  and  that  pointed,  graying  beard ; 
poet,  philosopher,  gentleman  to  the  bone.  "  Oh!  You 
saw  that,  too !  And  they  're  your  cattle  that  were 
stolen !  You  saw  it  —  oh,  you  're  —  you  're  —  " 

"  Hmm-mm  —  a  human  being,  I  hope,  Miss  MacDon- 
ald,  as  well  as  a  mere  cattleman.  How  is  the  old  lady  ?  " 

"  Crying,"  said  Billy  Louise,  with  brief  directness. 
"  Crying  over  the  picture  of  that  —  swine.  Think  of 
his  running  off  and  leaving  her  here  all  alone  —  and 
not  even  doing  the  chores  first !  "  (Here,  you  must 
know,  was  broken  an  unwritten  law  of  the  ranch.) 
"  And  Marthy  's  got  rheumatism,  too,  so  she  can  hardly 
walk  —  " 

"  I  '11  attend  to  the  chores,  Miss  MacDonald."  Sea- 
beck's  lips  quirked  under  the  fingers  that  pulled  at  his 
whiskers.  "  You  say  —  over  his  picture  ?  " 

"  Yes,  over  his  picture !  "  Billy  Louise  spoke  with  a 
suppressed  fury.  "  With  that  honest  look  in  his  eyes  — 
oh,  I  could  kill  him!" 


334    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

"  Hmm-mm  —  it  does  seem  a  pity  that  one  can't. 
But  if  she  can  cry  —  " 

"  I  see.  You  believe  too  that  tears  are  a  necessary 
kind  of  weakness  for  a  woman,  like  smoking  tobacco 
is  for  a  man  —  or  swearing.  Well,  I  can  just  tell  you, 
Mr.  Seabeck,  that  some  tears  pull  the  very  soul 
out  of  a  person ;  they  're  the  red-hot  pinchers  of  the 
torture-chamber  of  life,  Mr.  Seabeck.  Every  single, 
slow  tear  that  Marthy  sheds  right  now  is  taking  that 
much  away  from  her  life.  Why,  she  —  she  idolized 
that  —  that  devil.  She  had  n't  much  that  was  lovable  in 
poor  old  Jarse ;  he  was  just  her  husband ;  he  was  n't  even 
a  real  man.  And  she  never  had  any  children  to  love, 
except  a  little  girl  that  died.  And  she  's  worked  here 
and  scrimped  and  saved  till  she  got  just  fairly  com- 
fortable, and  then  Charlie  Fox  came  and  patted  her  on 
the  back  and  called  her  a  game  little  lady,  and  poor 
old  Marthy  just  poured  out  all  the  love  and  all  the 
trust  she  had  in  her,  on  him !  And  she  's  old,  and  she 
had  starved  all  her  life  for  a  little  love  —  a  little  affec- 
tion and  a  few  kind  words.  I  don't  suppose  Jase  kissed 
her  once  in  twenty  years ;  I  could  n't  imagine  him  get- 
ting up  steam  enough  to  kiss  anybody!  And  Charlie 
petted  her  and  did  little  things  for  her  that  nobody- 
had  ever  done  in  her  life.  It  meant  a  whole  lot  to 
Marthy  to  have  a  man  take  the  water  bucket  away  from 
her  and  give  her  a  little  hug  and  tell  her  she  must  n't 
think  of  carrying  water ;  oh,  you  're  a  man,  and  I  don't 
suppose  you  can  realize ;  I  did  n't  myself,  till  lately  - 
Billy  Louise  blushed  and  then  twisted  her  lips,  wonder- 
ing if  love  had  taught  her  all  this. 

"  And  so  Marthy  just  leaned  more  and  more  on  him 


MARTHY  335 

and  let  him  take  care  of  her  and  pet  her;  land  she 
never  once  dreamed  he  was  doing  anything  crooked.  I 
thought  she  did,  I  know,  Mr.  Seabeck.  I  thought  she 
was  in  it,  too ;  but  I  see  now  that  Marthy  has  been  liv- 
ing the  woman  in  her,  these  last  two  years ;  she  'd  never 
had  a  chance  before.  And  now  to  have  him — to  know  he 's 
just  a  common  thief  and  to  have  him  go  off  and  leave 
her  —  Mr.  Seabeck,  I  'd  be  willing  to  bet  all  I  've  got 
that  Marthy  would  have  forgiven  his  stealing  cattle,  if 
he  had  just  stayed.  She  'd  have  done  anything  on  earth 
for  him ;  and  the  bigger  the  sacrifice  she  made  for  him, 
the  more  she  would  have  loved  him;  women  are  like 
that.  But  to  have  him  go  off  —  and  —  leave  her  —  and 
not  bother  his  head  about  what  happened  to  her,  just 
so  he  got  out  of  it  —  Mr.  Seabeck,  that 's  going  to  kill 
Marthy.  It 's  going  to  kill  her  by  inches." 

"I  —  see,"  he  assented,  looking  thoughtfully  at  the 
flushed  face  and  big,  shining  eyes  of  Billy  Louise.  (I 
wonder  if  Seabeck  was  not  thinking  how  he  had  known 
Billy  Louise  impersonally  all  her  life  and  yet  had  never 
met  the  real  Billy  Louise  until  to-day!) 

"  And  yet,"  she  added  bitterly,  "  she  's  going  to  pro- 
tect him  if  it  takes  every  cent  she  's  managed  to  rake 
together  these  last  thirty  years.  You  heard  what  she 
told  you.  She  said  she  'd  kill  you  if  you  hurt  Charlie. 
She  'd  try  it,  too." 

"  Hmm-mm,  yes !  My  life  has  been  threatened  sev- 
eral times  to-day."  Seabeck  looked  at  her  with  eyes 
a-twinkle,  and  Billy  Louise  blushed  to  the  crown  of  her 
Stetson  hat.  "  Do  you  think,  Miss  MacDonald,  she 
•would  feel  like  talking  business  for  a  few  minutes  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  if  she  's  like  me,  she  '11  want  to  get  the 


336    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

agony  over  with."  Billy  Louise  turned  with  a  twitch 
of  the  shoulders.  She  felt  chilled,  somehow.  She  had 
not  quite  expected  that  Seabeck  would  want  to  talk 
about  his  stolen  stock  at  all.  She  had  rather  taken 
it  for  granted  that  he  would  let  that  subject  lie  quiet 
for  awhile.  Oh,  well,  he  was  a  cattleman,  after  all. 

Marthy  did  not  attempt  to  rise  when  Seabeck  followed 
Billy  Louise  into  the  sitting-room.  She  caught  up  her 
apron  and  wiped  her  eyes  and  her  nose,  however,  and 
she  also  slid  Charlie's  picture  under  the  cheap  cushion. 
After  that  she  faced  Seabeck  with  harsh  composure 
and  waited  for  the  settlement. 

"  Hm-mm !  I  have  been  looking  over  the  cattle,"  he 
began,  sitting  on  the  edge  of  a  chair  and  turning  his 
black  hat  absently  round  and  round  by  the  brim.  "  You 
—  inm-mm  —  you  tell  me  there  were  seven  head  of 
grown  stock  —  " 

"  That  they  shot  and  throwed  in  the  river,  with  the 
brands  cut  out,"  interpolated  Marthy  stolidly.  "  I 
heard  'em  say  that 's  how  they  would  git  rid  of  'em, 
an'  I  heard  'em  shootin'  down  there." 

"  Hmm-mm,  yes !    Do  you  know  just  what  —  " 

"  Five  dry  cows  'n'  two  steers  —  long  two-year-oles, 
I  j edged  'em  to  be."  Marthy  was  certainly  prompt 
enough  and  explicit  enough.  And  her  lips  were  grim, 
and  her  faded  blue  eyes  hard  and  steady  upon  the  face 
of  Seabeck. 

"  Hmm-mm  —  yes !  I  find  also,"  he  went  on  in 
his  somewhat  precise  voice  that  had  earned  him  the 
nickname  of  "  Deacon "  among  his  punchers,  "  that 
there  are  more  young  stock  vented  and  rebranded  than 
I  —  er  —  sold  your  nephew.  Fourteen  head,  to  be  ex- 


MARTHY  33? 

act.  With  the  cattle  you  tell  me  which  were  —  mm-m 
—  disposed  of  last  night,  that  would  make  twenty-one 
head  of  stock  for  which  —  mm-mm  —  I  take  it  you  are 
willing  to  pay." 

"  I  ain't  got  the  money  now,"  Marthy  stated,  too 
apathetic  to  be  either  defiant  or  placating.  "  You  c'n 
fix  up  the  papers  t'  suit  yerself.  I  '11  sign  anything 
yuh  want." 

"  Hmm-mm  —  yes !  A  note  covering  the  amount, 
with  legal  rate  of  interest,  will  be  —  quite  satisfactory, 
Mrs.  Meilke.  I  shall  make  a  lump  sum  at  the  going 
price  for  mixed  stock.  If  you  have  a  blank  note,  I  —  " 

"  You  kin  look  in  that  desk  over  there,"  permitted 
Marthy.  "  If  yuh  don't  find  any  there,  there  ain't  none 
nowhere." 

Seabeck  did  not  find  any  blank  notes.  He  found  an 
eloquent  confusion  of  jumbled  letters  and  accounts  and 
papers,  and  guessed  that  the  owner  had  done  some  hasty 
sorting  and  straightening  of  his  affairs.  He  sighed, 
and  his  blue  eyes  hardened  for  a  minute.  Then  Billy 
Louise  moved  from  the  door  and  went  over  to  kneel 
comfortingly  beside  Marthy,  and  Seabeck  looked  at 
the  two  and  sighed  again,  though  his  eyes  were  no 
longer  stern.  He  pulled  a  sheet  of  paper  toward  him 
and  wrote  steadily  in  a  prim,  upright  chirography  that 
had  never  a  flourish  anywhere,  but  carefully  crossed 
t's  and  carefully  dotted  i's  and  punctuation  marks  of 
beautiful  exactness. 

"  You  will  please  sign  here,  Mrs.  Meilke,"  he  said 
calmly,  coming  over  to  them  with  the  sheet  of  paper 
laid  smoothly  upon  a  last-year's  best-seller  and  with 
Charlie's  fountain  pen  in  his  other  hand.  "  And  if 


338    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

Miss  MacDonald  will  also  sign,  as  an  endorser,  I  think 
I  can  safely  do  away  with  any  mortgage  or  other  legal 
security." 

Billy  Louise  stood  up  and  gave  him  one  look  —  which 
Seabeck  did  not  appreciate,  because  he  did  not  see  it. 

"  I  'd  ruther  give  a  mortgage,"  Marthy  said  uneasily, 
sitting  up  suddenly  and  looking  from  one  to  the  other. 
"  I  don't  want  Billy  Louise  to  git  tangled  up  in  my 
troubles.  She  's  got  plenty  of  her  own.  Her  maw  's  just 
died,  Mr.  Seabeck.  And  I  '11  bet  there  was  a  hospital 
'n'  doctor's  bill  bigger  'n  this  cattle  note,  to  be  paid.  I 
don't  want  to  pile  on  —  " 

"  Now,  Marthy,  you  be  still.  I  'm  perfectly  willing 
to  sign  this  note  with  you.  If  it  will  satisfy  Mr.  Sea- 
beck,  I  'm  sure  it 's  the  very  least  we  can  do  —  or  — 
expect."  Billy  Louise,  bless  her  heart,  was  trying  very 
hard  to  be  grateful  to  Seabeck  in  spite  of  the  slump 
he  had  suffered  in  her  estimation. 

"  Well,  I  '11  want  your  written  word  that  yuh  won't 
prosycute  Charlie  nor  help  nobody  else  prosycute  him," 
stipulated  Marthy,  with  sudden  shrewdness.  "  If  me  'n 
Billy  Louise  signs  this  note,  we  '11  pay  it ;  and  we  want 
some  pertection  from  you,  fer  Charlie." 

"  Hmm-mm  —  I  see !  "  He  turned  and  went  back 
to  the  littered  desk  and  wrote  carefully  again  upon  an- 
other sheet  of  paper.  "  I  think  this  will  be  quite  satis- 
factory," he  said,  and  handed  the  paper  to  Marthy. 

"  Git  my  specs,  Billy  Louise  —  off  'n  the  shelf  over 
there,"  she  said,  and  read  the  paper  laboriously,  her 
lips  forming  the  letters  of  every  word  which  contained 
more  than  one  syllable.  Marthy,  remember,  was  a 
plainswoman  born  and  bred. 


MARTHY  339 

"  I  guess  that  '11  do,"  she  pronounced  at  last,  push- 
ing the  spectacles  up  on  her  lined  forehead.  "  You  read 
it,  Billy  Louise,  'n'  see  what  yuh  think." 

"  I  think  it 's  all  right,  Marthy,"  said  Billy  Louise, 
after  she  had  read  the  document  twice.  "  It 's  a  bill  of 
sale;  and  it  also  wipes  the  slate  clean  of  any  pos- 
sible—  I  think  Mr.  Seabeck  is  very  c-clever." 

Whereupon  Marthy  signed  the  note,  with  a  splut-^ 
tering  of  the  abused  pen  in  her  stiffened  old  fingers  and 
a  great  twisting  of  her  grim  mouth  as  she  formed  the 
capitals.  Then  Billy  Louise  wrote  her  name  with  a 
fine,  schoolgirl  ease  and  a  little  curl  on  the  end  of  the 
last  d.  Seabeck  took  the  paper  from  the  tips  of  Billy 
Louise's  supercilious  fingers,  returned  with  it  to  the 
desk  for  a  blotter,  hunted  an  envelope,  folded  the  note 
carefully,  and  laid  it  away  inside. 

"  I  believe  that  is  all,  Mrs.  Meilke.    I  hope  you  will 
suffer  no  further   uneasiness   on   account   of  your  — 
nephew." 

"  I  'm  liable  t'  suffer  some  gittin'  that  five  hundred 

dollars  paid  up,"  Marthy  returned  with  some  acerbity. 

1  "  I  'm  much  obleeged  to  yuh,  Mr.  Seabeck,  fer  bein' 

so  easy  on  us.     If  yuh  had  n't  drug  Billy  Louise  into 

it,  I  'd  say  yer  too  good  to  be  human." 

"  Hmm-mm  —  not  at  all,"  Seabeck  stammered  depre- 
catingly  and  left  the  room  with  what  haste  his  natural 
dignity  would  permit. 

That  ended  the  Seabeck  part  of  the  whole  sordid  af- 
fair, except  that  he  remained  for  another  hour,  doing 
chores  and  making  everything  snug  for  the  night.  Also 
he  filled  the  kitchen  woodbox  as  high  as  he  could  pile 
the  sticks  and  brought  water  to  last  overnight  —  since 


Charlie  's  plan  to  pipe  water  into  the  cabin  had  re- 
mained a  beautiful  plan  and  nothing  more.  Billy 
Louise  thanked  Seabeck,  when  he  was  ready  to  go. 

"  I  knew  you  were  square,  and  you  're  really  big- 
souled,  too.  I  '11  remember  it  always,  Mr.  Seabeck." 

"  Will  you  ?  "  Seabeck  looked  down  at  her,  with  his 
hand  upon  the  latch.  "  Even  if  you  are  put  in  a  posi- 
tion where  you  must  pay  that  note  —  you  will  still  - 
Hm-mm!  I  see.  Before  I  go,  Miss  MacDonald,  I 
should  like  your  permission  to  send  a  man  down  here 
to  look  after  things." 

"  No,  you  must  n't."  Billy  Louise  spoke  with  prompt 
decision.  "  Marthy  might  think  you  were  —  you  see, 
it  would  n't  do.  I  '11  see  about  getting  a  man.  If  you 
will  take  this  note  up  and  leave  it  in  the  mail-box  for 
me,  John  Pringle  will  come  up  to-morrow.  We  '11  man- 
age all  right." 

"  You  're  quite  right.  But,  Miss  MacDonald,  there 
is  something  else.  I  —  er  —  should  like  to  give  you  a 
little  —  wedding  gift,  since  you  honored  me  with  the 
news  of  your  approaching  —  mm-m  —  marriage.  As  an 
old  neighbor,  and  one  of  your  most  sincere  admirers, 
who  would  feel  greatly  honored  by  your  friendship,  I 
—  should  like  to  have  you  accept  this  —  "  He  held 
something  out  to  Billy  Louise  and  pulled  open  the  door 
for  instant  escape.  "  Good  night,  Miss  MacDonald.  I 
think  it  will  storm."  Then  he  was  gone,  hurrying  down 
the  narrow  path  with  long  strides,  his  tall  figure  bent 
to  the  wind,  his  coat  flapping  around  his  lean  legs. 

Billy  Louise  closed  the  door  and  her  half-open  mouth 
and  let  down  her  lifted  eyelids.  Standing  with  her 
back  against  the  wall,  she  turned  that  something  — 


MARTHY  341 

an  enyelepe  —  over  twice,  then  tore  off  the  end  and 
pulled  out  the  contents.  It  was  the  note  she  and  Marthy 
had  signed  no  longer  than  an  hour  ago,  and  written 
large  across  the  face  of  it  were  the  words :  "  Paid,  Sam- 
uel Seabeck." 

"  The  —  old  —  darling !  "   said  Billy  Louise  under 
her  breath  and  went  straight  in  to  show  it  to  Marthy. 


CHAPTEE  XXVIII 

% 

ALL   SIGHT   AND    COMFY 

SEABECK  was  a  fine  weather  prophet,  for  that 
time  at  least.  It  did  storm  that  night  and  the 
next  day  and  the  next ;  a  howling,  tearing  blizzard  that 
carried  the  snow  so  far  and  so  fast  that  it  almost  wore 
it  out;  so  that  when  the  spasm  was  over,  the  land  lay 
bleaker  and  raggeder  than  ever,  with  hard-packed  drifts 
in  all  the  hollows  and  bare  ground  between.  Of  course 
it  was  out  of  the  question  for  Billy  Louise  to  leave 
the  Cove  while  the  storm  lasted,  so  she  took  care  of 
Marthy  and  the  pigs  and  chickens  and  cows,  and  be- 
tween whiles  she  tormented  herself  with  direful  pictures 
of  Ward  up  there  alone  on  Mill  Creek.  Sometimes  she 
saw  him  raving  in  fever  and  wanting  a  drink  which  he 
could  not  get,  so  that  thirst  tortured  him;  then  calling 
for  her,  when  she  could  not  come.  Sometimes  she  saw 
him  trying  to  hobble  somewhere  on  those  crutches,  and 
falling  exhausted  —  breaking  more  bones,  perhaps;  or 
catching  more  cold,  or  something.  She  was  a  most 
distressed  Billy  Louise,  believe  me,  and  she  wished  a 
hundred  times  a  day  that  she  had  stayed  with  Ward  ; 
she  wished  that,  in  spite  of  Marthy's  need  of  her.  She 
was  terribly  sorry  for  Marthy;  but  Marthy  had  not 
broken  any  leg,  and  besides,  she  was  not  in  love  with 
Marthy. 

On  the  second  day  John  Pringle  battled  through  the 


ALL  RIGHT  AND  COMFY       343 

V 

storm  to  see  what  Billy  Louise  would  have  him  do. 
And  Billy  Louise  gave  him  instructions  about  finding 
a  man  and  sending  him  up  to  the  Cove  at  once,  and 
looking  after  tke  Wolverine  ranch  until  she  eame1  and 
having  Phoebe  send  up  some  clothes  for  her.  She  felt 
better  when  she  had  set  the  wheels  in  motion  again, 
and  as  she  stood  in  the  door  and  watched  John's  broad, 
stolid  back  out  of  sight  on  his  homeward  journey,  she. 
made  up  her  mind  that  she  would  start  at  daylight  for 
Mill  Creek,  and  she  did  n't  care  whether  it  stormed 
or  not.  She  simply  would  not  leave  Ward  there  alone 
any  longer.  She  almost  wished  that  she  had  told  Sea- 
beck  about  Ward;  he  would  have  sent  a  man  over  to 
look  after  him.  But  she  was  selfish,  and  she  wanted 
Ward  to  herself;  so  she  had  not  so  much  as  mentioned 
his  name  to  Seabeck. 

She  milked  tke  two  cows  by  lantern  light,  next  morn- 
ing; and  the  pigs  did  not  seem  to  want  to  leave  their 
nests  when  she  poured  their  breakfast  into  the  trough 
by  the  wavering  light  she  carried.  She  made  coffee 
for  Marthy  and  took  it  to  her  in  bed,  and  told  her  that 
she  would  leave  plenty  of  wood  and  kindling,  and  that 
Marthy  must  sleep  as  long  as  she  could  and  not  worry 
about  a  single,  living  thing.  She  said  she  must  get 
an  early  start,  because  it  might  be  "  bad  going  "  and 
she  meant  to  bring  Ward  back  with  her  if  he  were  able 
to  travel  at  all. 

"  I  can't  be  in  two  places  at  once,  Marthy,  so  if  you 
don't  mind,  I  '11  bring  him  down  here  where  I  can  look 
after  the  two  of  you  at  the  same  time.  You  '11  let  me, 
won't  you !  Or  else,"  she  added  hopefully,  "  I  '11  take 
you  both  down  home.  Would  you  rather  —  " 


344    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

"  I  'd  ruther  stay  here  where  I  b'long,"  said  Marthy 
dully.  "  But  I  don't  want  you  should  go  t'  any  trouble 
about  me,  Billy  Louise.  I  've  rustled  fer  m'self  all 
my  life,  and  I  guess  I  kin  yit.  If  it  wa'n't  fer  my  rheu- 
matiz,  I  'd  ask  no  odds  of  anybody.  I  ain't  goin'  t' 
leave,  anyway.  Charlie  might  come  back,  er  —  ' 

"  Well,  you  need  n't  leave."  Billy  Louise  told  her- 
self that  she  was  not  disappointed,  because  she  had  not 
hoped  to  persuade  Marthy  to  leave  the  Cove.  "  You 
don't  mind  if  I  bring  Ward  down  here,  do  you, 
Marthy  ?" 

"  No,  I  don't  mind  nothin'  you  kin  do,"  said  Marthy 
in  the  same  dull  tone,  pouring  her  saucer  full  of  cof- 
fee and  spilling  some  on  her  pillow,  because  her  hands 
were  not  as  steady  as  they  used  to  be.  "  He  kin  sleep 
in  Charlie's  room,  if  yuh  want  he  should."  She  took 
two  big  swallows  that  emptied  the  saucer,  handed  the 
dish  to  Billy  Louise,  and  lay  down  again.  "  I  don't 
seem  to  care  about  nothin',"  she  remarked  tonelessly. 
"  I  'd  jest  as  soon  die  as  live.  I  wisht  you  'd  send  word 
to  Seabeck  I  want  t'  see  him,  Billy  Louise.  Oh,  it 
ain't  about  Charlie,"  she  aded  harshly.  "  He  V  shet 
uh  me,  and  I  'm  shet  uh  him.  I  —  got  some  other  busi- 
ness with  Seabeck.  Tell  him  to  bring  a  couple  uh  men 
along  with  him." 

"  Is  there  any  hurry,  Marthy  ?  "  Billy  Louise  stood 
holding  the  cup  and  saucer  in  her  two  hands,  and  stared 
down  anxiously  at  the  lined  old  face  on  the  pillow.  A 
faint,  red  glow  was  in  the  sky,  and  the  lamp-light 
dimmed  with  the  coming  of  day.  "  You  don't  feel  - 
badly,  do  you,  Marthy  ?  " 

"  Me  ?    No.     Why  should  I  feel  bad  ?    But  I  want 


ALL  RIGHT  AND  COMFY       345 

t'  see  Seabeck  and  a  couple  of  his  men,  jest  as  quick 
as  you  kin  git  word  to  'em." 

"  Which  ones  ?  "  Billy  Louise  was  plainly  puzzled. 
Was  Marthy  going  to  make  him  take  those  cattle  back  ? 
It  was  like  her.  Billy  Louise  did  not  blame  her  for 
feeling  that  way,  either.  If  she  had  had  the  money, 
she  would  have  paid  him  herself  for  the  cattle. 

"  It  don't  matter  which  ones.  You  send  'im  word, 
Billy  Louise,  like  the  good  girl  yuh  always  have  been. 
You  've  always  kind  a  took  the  place  of  my  Minervy  to 
me,  Billy  Louise ;  and  I  won't  bother  yuh  much  longer." 

"  Oh,  of  course  I  will !  The  stage  will  go  up  this 
forenoon.  I  '11  send  a  note  to  Seabeck.  It  won't  be 
any  bother  at  all.  What  shall  I  say  ?  Just  that  you 
want  to  see  him  ?  " 

"  I  kin  write  it  m'  self,  I  guess,  if  you  '11  bring  me  a 
pencil  and  paper.  I  can't  seem  t'  git  used  to  a  pen.  I 
kin  write  all  I  want  t'  say." 

Billy  Louise  let  it  go  at  that.  She  brought  the  paper 
and  pencil  and  went  after  Blue,  while  Marthy,  sitting 
up  in  bed,  wrote  her  note.  Billy  Louise  was  eager  to 
start;  and  I  don't  think  anyone  should  blame  her  if 
she  hurried  Marthy  a  little,  and  if  her  parting  words 
were  few,  and  her  manner  slightly  abstracted.  She 
knew  just  how  Marthy  was  feeling  —  or  thought  she 
did ;  and  she  was  simply  wild  with  anxiety  over 
Ward. 

Blue  discovered  before  she  was  out  of  the  gorge  that 
his  lady  was  wild  over  something.  Never  had  she  come 
so  near  to  being  a  merciless  rider  as  on  that  nippy  morn- 
ing. There  were  drifts:  Blue  went  through  them  in 
great  lunges.  There  were  steep  hills :  but  there  was  no 


346    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

stopping  at  the  top  to  breathe  awhile  and  admire  the 
view.  Billy  Louise  rode  with  an  eye  upon  the  climbing 
sun,  and  with  her  mind  busy  adding  up  miles  and 
minutes. 

She  rode  up  the  creek  trail  at  a  long  lope,  and  she 
pulled  up  at  the  stable  and  slid  off  Blue,  who  was 
wet  to  his  ears  and  moving  every  rib  when  he  breathed. 
(Blue  was  a  good  horse,  with  plenty  of  speed  and  stam- 
ina, but  Billy  Louise  had  given  him  all  he  wanted, 
that  morning.)  She  went  straight  to  a  corner  of  the 
hay  corral  and  stopped  with  her  hands  clutching  the  top 
wire. 

"  Ward  Warren,  for  heaven's  sake,  what  are  you  do- 
ing ?  "  You  could  n't  have  told  from  her  tone  that  she 
had  been  crying,  a  mile  back,  from  sheer  anxiety,  or 
that  she  "  loved  him  to  pieces."  She  sounded  as  if 
she  did  not  love  him  at  all  and  was  merely  disgusted 
with  his  actions. 

"  I  'm  trying  to  sink  my  loop  on  this  damned  buzzard- 
head  of  a  horse,"  Ward  retorted  glumly.  "  I  've  been 
trying  for  about  an  hour,"  he  added,  grinning  a  little 
at  his  own  plight. 

"  Well,  it 's  a  lucky  thing  for  you  he  won't  let  you," 
Billy  Louise  informed  him  sternly,  stooping  to  crawl 
under  the  bottom  wire.  "  You  've  got  about  as  much 
sense  as  —  "  She  did  not  say  what.  "  Give  me  that 
rope,  and  you  take  yourself  and  your  crutches  out  of 
the  corral,  Mr.  Smarty.  I  just  had  a  hunch  you  could  n't 
be  trusted  to  behave  yourself." 

"  Brave  Buckaroo  got  lonesome,"  Ward  said,  look- 
ing at  her  with  eyes  alight,  as  he  hobbled  slowly  to- 
ward her.  "  You  '11  have  to  open  the  gate  for  me, 


ALL  RIGHT  AND  COMFY       347 

William.  Rattler '11  make  a  break  for  the  open  if  he 
sees  a  crack  as  wide  as  your  little  finger." 

By  then  he  was  near  enough  to  reach  out  an  arm  and 
pull  her  close  to  him.  "  Oh,  William  girl,  I  'm  sure 
glad  to  see  you  once  more.  I  got  scared.  I  thought 
maybe  I  just  dreamed  you  were  here;  so  I  tackled  —  " 

"  You  tackled  more  than  you  could  handle,"  Billy 
Louise  finished  with  her  lips  close  to  his.  "  You 
have  n't  got  any  sense  at  all.  You  might  have  known 
I  'd  come  the  very  first  minute  I  could." 

"  I  know  —  I  know." 

"  And  you  ought  to  know  you  must  n't  try  to  ride 
Rattler,  Ward.  What  if  he  'd  pitch  with  you  ?  " 

"  In  that  case,  I  'd  pile  up,  I  reckon.  Say,  William, 
a  broken  leg  does  take  a  hell  of  a  time  to  get  well.  But 
all  the  same,  I  '11  top  old  Rattler,  all  right.  I  'd  top 
anything  rather  than  spend  another  night  in  that  jail." 

"  You  '11  ride  Blue,"  Billy  Louise  told  him  calmly. 
"  I  'm  going  to  ride  Rattler  myself." 

"  Yes,  you  are  —  not !  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  I  can't  ?    Do  you  think  —  " 

"  Oh,  I  guess  you  can,  all  right,  but  — " 

"  Well,  if  I  can,  I  'm  going  to.  If  you  think  I  can't 
handle  a  measly  old  skate  like  that  —  " 

"  He  's  been  running  out  for  nearly  two  months,  Wil- 
hemina  —  " 

"  And  look  at  his  ribs!  If  you  '11  just  kindly  go  in 
the  house  while  I  saddle  —  " 

"  I  '11  kindly  stay  right  here,  lady-girl.  You  don't 
know  Rattler  —  " 

"  And  you  don't  know  Billy  Louise  MacDonald." 
She  wrinkled  her  nose  at  him  and  turned  back  to  un- 


saddle  Blue.  "  I  really  did  n't  intend  to  go  back  right 
now,"  she  said,  "  but  seeing  you  've  got  your  heart  set 
on  it,  I  suppose  we  might  as  well."  Then  she  added: 
"  We  're  only  going  as  far  as  the  Cove,  anyway ;  and 
I  really  ought  to  hurry  back  to  look  after  Marthy. 
Charlie  Fox  and  Peter  pulled  out  and  left  her  there 
all  solitary  alone.  I  Ve  been  staying  with  her  since 
I  left  here.  I  told  her  we  'd  be  down  there,  and  stay 
till  —  further  notice." 

Billy  Louise  did  not  give  Ward  much  opportunity 
for  argument.  He  was  too  awkward  with  his  crutches 
to  keep  up  with  her,  and  she  managed  to  be  on  the 
move  most  of  the  time. 

I  may  as  well  admit  that  she  was  horribly  afraid 
of  Rattler,  and  horribly  afraid  that  he  and  Ward  would 
find  it  out.  She  did  not  hurry  much.  She  took  plenty 
of  time  to  put  Ward's  saddle  on  Blue,  and  when  she 
finally  took  her  rope  and  went  in  after  Rattler,  who 
was  regarding  her  from  the  corner  of  the  stack  where 
he  might  run  either  way,  she  wished  that  Ward  was 
elsewhere  —  and  she  did  not  much  care  where. 

But  Ward  was  anxious,  and  he  stayed  where  he  was 
by  the  corner  of  the  stable  and  swore  in  violent  under- 
tones because  he  was  condemned  to  look  on  while  his 
Wilhemina  took  long  chances  on  getting  hurt.  Not  a 
move  of  hers  escaped  his  fear-sharpened  eyes,  while 
she  went  carelessly  close  to  Rattler,  and  then,  with  a 
quick  flip,  landed  the  loop  neatly  over  his  head.  Ward 
would  have  felt  less  pleased  if  he  had  known  how  her 
heart  was  thumping.  He  saw  only  the  whimsical  twist 
of  her  lips  and  thought  that  she  was  enjoying  a  dis- 
tinctly feminine  sense  of  triumph  at  her  success. 


ALL  RIGHT  AND  COMFY       349 

Billy  Louise  led  Rattler  boldly  up  to  where  lay  her 
saddle  and  Ward's  bridle.  She  hoped  she  did  not 
look  scared,  but  she  was  wondering  all  the  time  what 
Rattler  would  do  when  she  "  piled  on  " ;  pile  her  off, 
probably,  her  pessimism  told  her,  for  Billy  Louise  was 
no  lady  broncho-fighter,  for  all  she  rode  so  well  on 
horses  that  she  knew.  There  is  a  difference. 

"  Sure  you  want  to  tackle  him,  lady-girl  ?  "  Ward 
asked  her,  after  he  had  himself  attended  to  the  bridling 
—  since  Rattler  was  touchy  about  the  head.  "  Of 
course,  he  is  n't  bad,  when  you  know  him ;  but  he 's 
liable  to  be  pretty  snuffy  after  running  out  so  long.  And 
he  never  had  a  woman  on  him.  You  better  let  me  ride 
him." 

"  Don't  be  silly.  You  could  n't  even  mount  him,  with 
that  game  leg.  And  besides,  don't  you  see  I  've  been 
wanting  an  excuse  to  ride  Rattler  ever  since  I  knew 
you?  You  must  have  a  very  poor  opinion  of  my 
riding." 

"  Oh,  if  you  put  it  that  way  — "  Ward  yielded, 
just  as  she  knew  he  would.  "  I  have  n't  a  doubt  but 
what  you  can  handle  him  if  you  take  a  notion.  Only  — 
if  you  got  hurt  —  " 

"  But  I  won't."  Billy  Louise  braced  her  courage 
with  a  smile  and  picked  up  the  saddle  blanket.  But 
Ward  took  it  from  her  and  hobbled  close  enough  to  ad- 
just it. 

"  He  knows  me,"  he  explained  meaningly.  "  Bet- 
ter let  me  saddle  up.  He  don't  know  but  what  I  can 
cave  a  rib  or  two  in,  if  he  don't  behave.  Just  hand 
me  the  saddle,  William,  please." 

"  You  're  only  trying  to  scare  me  out,"  Billy  Louise 


350    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

accused  him,  with  a  vast  relief  well  hidden.  "  I  'm  not 
a  bit  afraid  of  him." 

"  All  right ;  that  '11  help  some."  He  steadied  him- 
self by  the  horse  's  twitching  shoulder  while  he  reached 
carefully  for  the  cinch.  "  I  guess  I  'm  more  scared 
than  you  are." 

"  I  know  you  are.  I  've  taken  too  many  tumbles  to 
let  the  prospect  of  another  one  worry  me,  anyway. 
Why,  Blue  ditched  me  himself,  three  different  times 
when  I  first  began  to  ride  him.  And  even  yet  the  old 
devil  would  like  to,  once  in  a  while."  Billy  Louise 
was  actually  talking  herself  rapidly  into  a  feeling  of 
confidence. 

She  needed  it.  When  she  had  helped  Ward  upon 
Blue  —  and  that  was  not  easy,  either,  considering  that 
he  only  had  one  leg  fit  to  stand  on  —  and  had  gone 
to  the  cabin  for  her  bag  of  nuggets  and  Ward's  roll  of 
money  which  he  had  forgotten,  and  had  exhausted  every 
other  excuse  for  delay,  she  picked  up  Rattler's  reins 
and  wound  her  fingers  in  his  mane,  and  took  hold  of 
the  stirrup  as  nonchalantly  as  if  she  were  mounting 
Blue. 

She  went  up  at  the  instant  when  Rattler  jumped 
sidewise  from  her.  She  got  partly  into  the  saddle, 
clung  there  for  a  few  harrowing  seconds,  and  then  went 
'over  his  head  and  plump  into  a  snowdrift  beside  the 
stable. 

"  Good  God !  "  groaned  Ward  and  went  white  and 
weak  as  he  watched. 

"  Good  gracious !  "  grumbled  Billy  Louise,  righting 
herself  and  digging  snow  out  of  her  collar  and  sleeves. 
"  Stop  your  laughing,  Ward  Warren !  "  (Ward  was 


ALL  RIGHT  AND  COMFY       351 

not  laughing,  and  she  knew  it.)  "  I  '11  ride  that  ornery 
cayuse,  just  to  show  him  I  can.  You  Rattler,  I  '11  fix 
you  for  that !  "  She  turned  to  Ward  and  twisted  her 
lips  at  him.  "  I  see  now  why  you  named  him  that," 
she  said.  "  Because  he  rattles  your  teeth  loose." 

"  You  keep  off  him !  "  Ward  shouted  sternly. 

"  You  keep  still !  "  Billy  Louise  shouted  back  at  him. 
"  We  're  going  to  find  out  right  now  who  's  boss." 

Whether  she  referred  to  Rattler  or  to  his  master  she 
did  not  stipulate ;  perhaps  she  meant  both  of  them.  At 
any  rate,  she  caught  the  horse  again  and  mounted,  a 
great  deal  more  cautiously  than  she  had  at  first,  in 
spite  of  Ward's  threats  and  entreaties.  She  got  fairly 
into  the  saddle  and  stayed  there  —  with  the  help  of  the 
horn  and  the  luck  that  had  thus  far  carried  her  through 
almost  anything  she  undertook.  She  was  not  a  bit 
ashamed  of  "  pulling  leather." 

"  Now  we  're  all  right  and  comfy,"  she  announced 
breathlessly,  when  the  first  fight  was  over  and  Rattler, 
like  his  master,  had  yielded  to  the  inevitable.  "  And 
we  know  who  's  boss,  and  we  're  all  of  us  squindiciously 
happy,  because  we  're  headed  for  home.  Are  n't  we, 
buckaroo  ? " 

"  I  suppose  so,"  Ward  mumbled  doubtingly,  for  a 
moment  eyeing  her  sidelong.  He  was  not  quite  over 
his  scare  yet. 

"  And  say,  buckaroo !  "  Billy  Louise  reined  close, 
so  that  she  could  reach  out  and  pinch  his  arm  a  little 
bit.  "  Soon  as  your  leg  is  all  well,  and  you  're  every 
speck  over  the  hookin'-cough,  why  —  you  can  be  the 
boss ! " 

"Can  I?" 


352    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

"  Honest,  you  can.  I  've  "  —  Billy  Louise  had  the 
grace  to  blush  a  little  —  "I  've  always  thought  I  'd 
love  to  have  somebody  bully  me  and  boss  me  and  'buse 
me.  And  I  —  "  Her  lips  twitched  a  little.  "  I  think 
you  can  qualify.  What  was  that  you  said  just  as  I  was 
getting  on  the  second  time  ?  I  was  too  busy  to  listen, 
but  —  " 

"  But  what  ?  I  don't  remember  that  I  said  anything." 
Ward  got  hold  of  her  free  hand  and  held  it  tight. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  did !     It  was  sweary,  too." 

"W&s  it?" 

"  Yes,  it  was.  You  sweared  at  Flower  of  the 
Eanch-oh." 

Billy  Louise  stopped  at  that,  since  Ward  refused  to 
be  baited.  She  sensed  that  there  were  bigger  things 
than  a  "  sweary  "  sentence  in  the  forefront  of  her  bucka- 
roo's  mind.  She  waited. 

They  came  to  the  gate,  and  Billy  Louise  freed  her 
hand  from  his  clasp  and  dismounted,  since  it  was  a 
wire  gate  and  could  not  be  opened  on  horseback.  She 
closed  it  after  him,  looked  to  her  cinch,  tightened  it 
a  little,  patted  Eattler  forgivingly  on  the  neck,  caught 
the  horn  with  one  hand  and  the  stirrup  with  the  other, 
and  went  up  quite  like  a  man,  while  Ward  watched 
her  intently. 

"  l  In  sooth,  I  know  not  why  you  are  so  sa-ad,'  "  mur- 
mured Billy  Louise,  when  she  swung  alongside  in  the 
trail. 

Ward  caught  her  hand  again  and  did  not  let  go ;  so 
they  rode  hand  in  hand  down  the  narrow  valley. 

"  I  was  wondering  —  "  he  hesitated,  drawing  in  a 
corner  of  his  lip,  biting  it,  and  letting  it  go.  "  Wil- 


ALL  RIGHT  AND  COMFY       353 

hemina,  if  old  Lady  Fortune  takes  a  notion  to  give  me 
another  kick  or  two,  just  when  life  looks  so  good  to 
me  —  " 

"  Why,  we  '11  kick  back  just  as  hard  as  she  does," 
threatened  Billy  Louise  courageously.  "  Don't  let  hap- 
piness get  on  your  nerves,  Ward." 

"  If  I  was  n't  crippled,  it  would  n't.  But  whea  a 
man  's  down  and  out,  he  —  thinks  a  lot.  The  last  three 
days,  I  've  lived  a  whole  lifetime,  lady-girl.  Everything 
seems  to  be  coming  my  way,  all  at  once.  And  I  'm 
afraid;  what  if  I  can't  make  good?  If  I  can't  make 
you  happy "  —  he  squeezed  her  fingers  so  that  Billy 
Louise  had  to  grit  her  teeth  to  keep  from  interrupting 
him  —  "  or  if  anything  should  happen  to  you  —  Lord ! 
I  —  I  never  knew  what  it  was  to  be  crazy  scared  till  I 
saw  you  fall  off  Kattler.  I  —  " 

"  You  've  got  nerves,  buckaroo.  You  Ve  been  shut 
up  there  alone  so  long  you  see  things  all  distorted. 
We  're  going  to  be  happy,  because  we  '11  be  together, 
and  we  've  so  much  to  do  and  so  much  to  think  of.  You 
must  realize,  Ward,  that  we  've  got  three  places  to  take 
care  of,  and  you  and  me  and  poor  old  Marthy.  She 
has  n't  anybody,  Ward,  but  us.  And  she  's  changed  so  — 
got  so  old  —  just  in  the  last  few  days.  I  never  knew 
a  person  could  change  so  much  in  such  a  little  while. 
She  's  just  let  go  all  holds  and  kind  of  sagged  down, 
mentally  and  physically.  W7e  '11  have  to  take  care  of 
her,  Ward,  as  long  as  she  lives.  That 's  why  I  'm  tak- 
ing you  there  —  so  we  can  look  after  her.  She  won't 
leave  the  Cove.  I  —  I  was  hoping,"  she  added  shyly, 
"  that  we  could  sit  in  front  of  our  own  fireplace,  Ward, 
and  have  nice  cozy  evenings;  but: — well,  there  always 


354    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

seems  to  be  something  for  me  to  do  for  somebody, 
Ward." 

"  Oh,  you  Wilhemina !  "  Ward  slipped  his  arm 
around  her,  to  the  disgust  of  Rattler  and  Blue,  and 
made  shift  to  kiss  her  twice.  "  Long  as  you  live,  you  '11 
aways  be  doing  something  for  somebody ;  that 's  the 
way  you  're  made.  And  nobody  's  been  doing  things 
for  you ;  but  if  the  Lord  lets  me  live,  that 's  going  to 
be  my  job  from  now  on." 

He  said  a  great  deal  more,  of  course.  They  had 
nearly  fifteen  miles  to  go,  and  they  rode  at  a  walk; 
and  a  man  and  a  maid  can  say  a  good  deal  at  such 
a  time.  But  I  don't  think  they  would  like  to  have 
it  all  repeated.  Their  thoughts  ranged  far:  back  over 
the  past  and  far  into  the  future,  and  clung  close  to 
the  miracle  of  love  that  had  brought  them  together. 
There  is  one  thing  which  Billy  Louise,  even  in  her  most 
self-revealing  mood,  did  not  tell  Ward,  and  that  is  her 
doubts  of  him.  Never  once  did  he  dream  that  she  had 
suspected  him  and  wrung  her  heart  because  of  her  sus- 
picions —  and  in  that  I  think  she  was  wise  and  kind. 

They  found  Seabeck  and  Floyd  Carson  and  another 
cowboy  at  the  Cove,  just  preparing  to  leave.  Marthy, 
it  transpired,  had  wanted  to  make  her  will,  so  that 
Billy  Louise  would  have  the  Cove  when  Marthy  was 
done  with  it.  Billy  Louise  cried  a  little  and  argued 
a  good  deal,  but  Marthy  had  not  lost  all  her  stubborn- 
ness, and  the  will  stood  unchanged. 

When  Ward  understood  all  of  the  circumstances,  he 
hobbled  into  the  kitchen  and  signaled  Seabeck  to  fol- 
low him ;  and  there  he  counted  out  five  hundred  dol- 


ALL  RIGHT  AND  COMFY       355 

lars  from  his  last  gold-harvest  and  with  a  few  crisp 
sentences  compelled  Seabeck  to  accept  the  money.  (At 
that,  Seabeck  stood  a  loser  by  Charlie's  thievery,  but  no 
one  knew  it  save  himself,  since  he  never  mentioned  the 
matter.) 

Billy  Louise  and  Ward  were  married  just  as  soon 
as  Ward  was  able  to  make  the  trip  to  the  county-seat, 
which  was  just  as  soon  as  he  could  walk  comfortably 
with  a  cane. 

They  stayed  the  winter  in  the  Cove,  and  a  part  of 
the  spring.  Then  they  buried  grim,  gray  old  Marthy 
up  on  the  side  hill  near  Jase,  where  she  had  asked  them 
to  lay  her  work-worn  body  when  she  was  gone. 

They  were  very  busy  and  very  happy  and  pretty 
prosperous  with  their  three  ranches  and  what  gold  Ward 
washed  out  of  the  gravel-bank  while  they  were  living 
up  on  Mill  Creek,  so  that  he  could  prove  up  on  his 
claim.  They  never  heard  of  Charlie  Fox  again,  or 
of  Buck  Olney  —  and  they  never  wanted  to. 

If  you  should  some  time  ride  through  a  certain  por- 
tion of  Idaho,  you  may  find  the  tiny  valley  of  the  Wol- 
verine and  the  decaying  cabins  which  prove  how  im- 
possible it  is  for  a  couple  to  live  in  three  places  at  once. 
If  you  should  be  so  fortunate  as  to  meet  Billy  Louise, 
she  might  take  you  through  the  canyon  and  point  out 
to  you  her  cave  and  Minervy's.  It  is  possible  that  she 
might  also  show  you  the  washout  which  always  made 
her  and  Ward  laugh  when  they  passed  it.  And  if  you 
ride  up  over  the  hill  and  along  the  upland  and  down 
another  hill,  you  cannot  fail  to  find  the  entrance  to  the 
Cove ;  and  perhaps  you  will  like  to  ride  down  the  gorge 
and  see  the  little  Eden  hidden  away  there.  You  may 


356    RANCH  AT  THE  WOLVERINE 

even  ride  as  far  as  Mill  Creek;  but  you  will  be  told, 
very  likely,  that  no  one  ever  found  any  gold  there.  And 
if  you  should  meet  them,  give  my  regards  to  Billy 
Louise  and  Ward  —  who  never  calls  himself  a  football 
these  days. 


THE    END 


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Mollie's  Prince Rosa  N.  Carey 

Molly  McDonald Randatt  Parrish 

Money  Moon,  The Jeffery  Farnol 

Motor  Maid,  The C.N.andA.  M.  WilMamson 

Moth,  The William  Dana  Orcutt 

Mountain  Girl,  The. Payne  ErsMne 

Mr.  Pratt Joseph  C.  Lincoln 

Mr.  Pratt's  Patients Joseph  C.  Lincoln 

Mrs.  Red  Pepper Grace  S.  Richmond 

My  Friend  the  Chauffeur .  CJV.  and  A.M.  WiUiamson 

My  Lady  Caprice Jeffery  Farnol 

My  Lady  of  Doubt Randall  Parrish 

My  Lady  of  the  North Randatt  Parrish 

My  Lady  of  the  South Randall  Parrish 

Mystery  Tales Edgar  Atten  Pot 

Mystery  of  the  Boule  Cabinet,  The. 

Burton  E.  Stetenson 

Nancy  Stair EKnor  Macartney  Lane 

Ne'er-Do-Well,  The Rex  Beach 

Net,  The Rex  Beach 

NightRiders,  The RidgwellCuttum 

No  Friend  Like  a  Sister Rosa  N.  Carey 

Officer  666 ..  Barton  W.  Currie  and  Augustin  McHugh 

Once  Upon  a  Time Richard  Harding  Davis 

One  Braver  Thing Richard  Dehan 

One  Way  Trail,  The RidgweU  Cullum 

Orphan,  The Clarence  E.  Mulford 

Out  of  the  Primitive Robert  Ames  Bennel 

Pam Bettina  Von  Hutten 

Pam  Decides Bettina  Von  Hutten 

Pardners. Rex  Beach 

Parrot  &  Co Harold  McGraOi 

Partners  of  the  Tide Joseph  C.  Lincoln 

Passage  Perilous,  The Rosa  N.  Carey 

Passionate  Friends,  The H.  G.  Wells 

Paul  Anthony,  Christian Hiram  W.  Hayt 

Peter  Ruff E.  Phillips  Oppenheim 

Phillip  Steele James  Oliver  Curwood 


Popular  Copyright  Novels 

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list  of  A.  L.  Burt  Company's  Popular  Copyright  Fiction 


Phra  the  Phoenician Edwin  Lester  Arnold 

Pidgin  Island \ Harold  MacGrath 

Place  of  Honeymoons,  The Harold  MacGrath 

Pleasures  and  Palaces. Juliet  Wilbor  Tompkins 

Plunderer,  The Roy  Norton 

Pole  Baker Will  N.  Harben 

Pool  of  Flame,  The Louis  Joseph  Vance 

Polly  of  the  Circus Margaret  Mayo 

Poppy Cynthia  Stockley 

Port  of  Adventure,  The  ..C.N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson 

Postmaster,  The Joseph  C.  Lincoln 

Power  and  the  Glory,  The. .  .Grace  McGowan  Cooke 

Price  of  the  Prairie,  The Margaret  HiU  McCarter 

Prince  of  Sinners,  A E,  Phillips  Oppenheim 

Prince  or  Chauffeur Lawrence  Perry 

Princess  Passes,  The — C.N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson 
Princess  Virginia,  The.  .C.  N,  and  A  M.  Williamson 

Prisoners  of  Chance Randall  Parrish 

Prodigal  Son,  The HallCaine 

Purple  Parasol,  The George  Ban  McCutcheon 

R.  J.'s  Mother Margaret  Deland 

Ranching  for  Sylvia Harold  Bindloss 

Reason  Why,  The Elinor  Glyn 

Redemption  of  Kenneth  Gait,  The.  .Will  N.  Harben 

Red  Cross  Girl,  The Richard  Harding  Davis 

Red  Lane,  The Holman  Day 

Red  Pepper  Burns Grace  S.  Richmond 

Red  Republic,  The Robert  W.  Chambers 

Refugees,  The A.  Conan  Doyk 

Rejuvenation  of  ,Aunt  Mary,  The Anne  Warner 

Rise  of  Roscoe  Paine,  The Joseph  C.  Lincoln 

Road  to  Providence,  The. .  .Maria  Thompson  Daviest 

Robinetta. Kate  Douglas  Wiggin 

Rose  in  the  Ring,  The George  Ban  McCutcheon 

Rose  of  the  World Agnes  and  Egerton  Castle 

Rose  of  Old  Harpeth,  The.  .Maria  Thompson  Daviess 
Round  the  Corner  in  Gay  Street. .  .Grace  S.  Richmond 

Routledge  Rides  Alone Will  Lerington  Comfort 

Rue:  With  a  Difference Rosa  N.  Carey 

St.  Elmo  (Illustrated  Edition) Augusta  J.  Evani 

Seats  of  the  Mighty,  The .Gilbert  Parker 


